


Comfort Zones

by Emmyjean



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anger Management, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Porn with Feelings, References to Depression, Sex Work, Social Anxiety, Trust Issues, mild dub-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-21 15:08:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 81,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13743531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmyjean/pseuds/Emmyjean
Summary: Rey worked two days a week at Plutt’s repair shop fixing people’s fancy phones and tablets, and two days a week at Maz’s Place bartending until all hours and still wasn’t making enough to afford both her rent and essentials - like soap. And food.She was really excited at Finn’s offer to get her a temp job on the film set he’d been working on - but his cagey demeanor was making her nervous.When pressed for details, Finn sighed and closed his eyes, holding up his hands in surrender.“Okay, I’m just gonna say it. It’s porn.”Going way outside of her comfort zone and knowing it might be a horrible idea - Rey takes the job.





	1. Taking the Plunge

“So...what, it’s like, an actual film set?”

 

Rey was excited as she set a plate of hot wings down in front of Finn that she was probably going to comp for him in exchange for the tip about a possible new temp gig. It didn’t really matter tonight - the circular bar that dominated the middle of the eclectic space she worked in was packed because of March Madness. She’d have a good night for tips, and for once she could afford to buy her best friend a meal.

 

Well...an appetizer, at least.

 

He was going to get her a job in return. In the movies, no less. Unlike many - or most, it sometimes seemed - young women working in the Los Angeles service industry, she was certainly not an aspiring actress. But damned if it wouldn’t be absolutely  _ wicked _ to work on a film.

 

She worked two days a week at Plutt’s repair shop fixing people’s fancy phones and tablets, and two days a week at Maz’s Place bartending until all hours and  _ still  _ wasn’t making enough to afford both her rent and essentials - like soap. And food. 

 

She was barely scraping by and certainly wasn’t saving what she needed to continue pursuing her graduate studies - or anything else. She hated L.A. with a passion. She just didn’t fit in, and at this point she was done trying.

 

Finn hesitated as he stared at his plate, then scratched his neck and replied hesitantly, “Well...sort of. It’s not exactly feature film work. That’s why they don’t care so much about unions and stuff.”

 

“That’s fine,” Rey waved him off, nodding to acknowledge the bloke down the bar who wanted another round, “As long as it’s legit and they’re good for their paycheck.”

 

“No, they are, it’s just that it’s - really unconventional.”

 

“Like artsy, avant-garde stuff? Are they student filmmakers, or what?”

 

“Umm…” he fell silent, staring at his wings, and muttered, “I should have thought this through more carefully. I’m starting to get heartburn and I haven’t even had a wing yet.”

 

Rey frowned, trepidation and curiosity fighting for dominance in her gut as she demanded, “Why? You’re making me nervous now...”

 

Finn sighed and closed his eyes, holding up his hands in surrender.

 

“Okay, I’m just gonna say it. It’s porn.”

 

Rey stared at him, and then burst out laughing.

 

“Come on, Finn.”

 

“I’m serious,” Finn said, looking her in the eye, “Professional, nothing shady - I mean, they’re legit in the business and everything. A real studio, a well-known production company with big-name actors - well, big names in porn. All legal, safe…”

 

“Wait,” she stopped him, her eyes widening, “Are you serious?  _ Porn? _ All this time, you’ve been working in porn?”

 

He shrugged, clearly embarrassed, and replied defensively, “Jesus, keep your voice down!  Yes, and it’s been pretty steady. It’s not what you think - well, okay, some of it is, but it’s not any dirtier than it has to be. Everyone’s really professional, it’s organized and efficient…and I’m learning things about my trade, which is going to be good if I ever do want to break into mainstream stuff, which I eventually do...”

 

Rey, still incredulous, exclaimed, “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were messing with me! Why didn’t you ever tell me what your job was all about? When you told me you worked on short shoots, I thought you worked in commercials or something! Were you afraid I’d think you were morally bankrupt or what?”

 

“No!” he protested, then amended, “Well, I was pretty sure you wouldn’t. I mean, I personally don’t have a problem with porn, as long as it’s produced legally and all consensual and stuff. But some people do have an issue with it. And I wasn’t sure where you stand - it, ah, never came up in conversation.”

 

Rey opened her mouth to answer, then slowly became aware of someone behind her. She turned to find Maz, her boss, standing there looking very amused.

 

“If I had a nickel for all the things I’ve overheard in this place…”

 

“No, it’s not what it sounds like…”

 

“It sounds like Finn’s trying to convince you to come and work with him on a porn production. Not the most shocking thing I’ve overheard, by the way.  If the money’s good, do it. Never turn down an opportunity unless it has the potential to hurt you. And what could this hurt?”

 

“Well...my girlish sensibilities?” Rey quipped, and Maz snapped her bar towel at her.

 

“Gotta grow up sometime, kiddo.”

 

Rey laughed lightly, then looked back at Finn. “So...just one day?”

 

“Well, these shoots aren’t very long, and I know Friday is the only day you’re not working.”

 

“I  _ am  _ working. Here, at night.”

 

“Yeah, but this would be during the afternoon. And if I were you, I’d call in at Plutt’s to work two days on set, maybe three. The money’s better.”

 

Rey looked dubious and murmured, “I don’t know…”

 

Finn shrugged said earnestly, “Look, just think about it - it’s a quick buck, and you can either swear it off forever afterwards if you’re really weirded out, or you can come back as a temp for the next one if you’re not. It’s really a lot more boring than you would probably expect.”

 

She pressed her lips together and, even though she couldn’t believe she was even considering it, promised, 

 

“Okay. I’ll think about it.”

 

~~

 

_ Oh, God - I should have thought harder _ .

 

It was the thought going through Rey’s head as she took in her surroundings - which, currently, consisted of the set of a soon-to-be-shot porn flick and all the trappings that came with that.

 

“You okay?”

 

She was staring at a pink couch in the middle of the fake, luxurious-looking living room. Was that where they were going to do...it?

 

“Rey!”

 

She snapped out of her thoughts and finally realized Finn was talking to her, one hand holding a boom mike and the other holding out a cup of coffee for her to take. She grabbed it and took a sip, scalding her tongue.

 

“Ow, shit! Yeah, yeah...I’m fine. Just trying to wrap my head around this.”

 

“It’s just like any other movie, Rey - it’s fake. Don’t get caught up in the gory details.”

 

“I know, but...it’s freaking me out that it’s just so...normal? Like, everyone’s walking around as though there  _ aren’t  _ going to be people going at it right in front of us in a few minutes.”

 

“Everyone’s used to it, that’s all. You’ll get there too, if you keep coming back.”

 

“Well, we’ll see.”

 

He grinned at her and excused himself, issuing one last command to relax before walking away from her. She spent the next several minutes running various small errands for various people - makeup, wardrobe, the director. Who, incidentally, was about the farthest thing from a porn director that she could think of - skinny, pale, with orange hair and sporting bushy, perpetually scowling eyebrows.

 

Finally, they were ready to start, and Rey’s stomach clenched in secondhand nervousness - which she was sure she was the only one feeling - as the actors came out. At least, she assumed that’s who they were, by the way everyone was treating them.

 

She sidled closer to Finn and whispered, “Are those the actors?”

 

He nodded and said, “Yeah - that’s Tori Silver, she’s big in the industry. Pretty cool lady, actually. Down to earth.”

 

She nodded, then frowned, “And the guy?”

 

“He might even be bigger than her. Usually the men don’t make huge names for themselves like the women do, but this guy is pretty well-known. Name’s Kylo Ren.”

 

She stared at him, then said, “He’s...unconventional-looking.”

 

Finn smirked at her, knowing what she really meant, and replied, “He’s magnetic, which makes up for the sort of unconventional looks. Plus, he’s got a  _ massive _ dick.”

 

She choked on her coffee.

 

“Shh! My God, Finn!”

 

“Sadly, he also IS sort of a massive dick, personality-wise. Just keep your distance if you can and spare yourself the trouble.”

 

He wasn’t kidding. About any of it.

 

As the scene started, Rey’s nervousness began to die down as she watched everyone fall into their places, taking it as seriously as anyone else would take their jobs.

 

The dialogue actually wasn’t terrible, for a porno, and she was surprisingly engrossed when suddenly the male lead leaned in to kiss his buxom costar, setting off the physical aspect of the story - and it escalated fast.

 

Really fast.

 

Rey wasn’t sure if the scene actually did progress in a matter of seconds or if that was only the case for Rey, but it seemed like no time at all between the initial kiss and the moment the lady - Tori - sank to her knees in front of Kylo Ren to pull him out of his trousers for a blow job.

 

Finn really,  _ really _ wasn’t kidding. It was the largest cock she’d ever seen.

 

She actually averted her eyes.

 

The scene ramped up as Tori went to work, and just when Rey felt like she knew where it was going next, the director - Hux, his name was - called cut. 

 

Rey blinked as the two actors stopped what they were doing and allowed themselves to be readjusted, and then Hux yelled action and they were back at it.

 

This happened over and over, no matter what the actors were in the middle of doing. It was mind-boggling, and Rey thought with wry conviction that this experience might be ruining porn for her forever.

 

Before she knew it, she was actually standing there watching Kylo pound into Tori from behind, listening to the slap of their skin and their moans and smelling the thick, unmistakable musk of sex mixed with sweat permeating the air, and feeling completely detached.

 

It was all so... _ fake _ .

 

She was strangely proud of how well she was handling it. Maybe it wouldn’t be so crazy to make this a regular gig. After all - a paycheck is a paycheck, and if they needed gophers, who was she to say no to an extra hundred dollars a week?

  
~~

 

“Cut!”

 

In a flash, Kylo Ren pulled out of his costar, quickly grabbing the base of his cock as he did so. He had been just about to come, and grit his teeth against the pressure as he forced his orgasm back down.

 

“What the fuck, Hux?” he snarled, panting.

 

“The angle isn’t working. We need to reset. And I think I want a position change at this point.”

 

“Shit,” groaned Tori, drawing out the word dramatically as she reluctantly disentangled herself from him and reached down to cradle her cunt, “I’m sore as fuck. I thought it was almost over.”

 

“It was,” Ren grunted, still gripping his erection with one arm braced on the bed as he tried to work through it. Over his shoulder, he asked, “How long is this gonna take?”

 

“Yeah, I have to be somewhere,” Tori said, screwing the cap back on her water and gingerly crossing her legs as she handed it back to the PA with a smile.

 

“Look, it’s either get it done now, or do it on Monday. You really want to take a two day break in the middle of a key scene?”

 

“Actually?” Tori mused, her eyebrows raising, “Yeah. I would. I’m supposed to babysit my niece. If we have to wait for the reset and then wait for him to get it up again, we’ll be here another hour at least.”

 

“Fine,” Hux said, clearly displeased but not yet past being reasonable, “That’s a wrap for the day, then. See you all bright and early on Monday morning. Tori, take a sitz bath.”

 

“Shut up,” she replied, getting into her robe and hurrying off the set without a backward glance.

 

Ren practically ripped his robe away from the PA that was holding it out to him, throwing it over his shoulders and not even caring to close it fully in the front as he stormed back toward his dressing room, his still-hard erection poking out the front of it.

 

He slammed the door of his makeshift dressing room behind him, walking over to the table and bracing one hand on it while the other flew to his cock. In the end, it only took about thirty seconds of frantic pumping and he was spurting his release all over the surface of the table. He straightened, breathing heavily, and shrugged off the robe. Dressing quickly, he grabbed his bag and walked out without so much as giving the mess a once over with a towel.

 

Fuck them, he thought bitterly. They signed up for their shitty jobs, same as him.

 

His phone chose that moment to vibrate, and he froze as he slid his hand into his jacket pocket to grab it. He knew who it would be - there weren’t a lot of people who would be calling him to begin with, but considering that they’d wrapped early and Hux was a weasel, there was only one real possibility.

 

Talking to Snoke was the last thing he wanted to do right now, but ignoring it wouldn’t make it any better for him later. His jaw clenched as he brought the phone up to his ear, knowing that the head of First Order Studios didn’t mince words. The older man’s deceptively aristocratic voice was booming in Kylo’s ear before he could even mumble a greeting.

 

“I hope you’re about to assure me that the need to wrap early today was an isolated incident.”

 

Kylo stared straight ahead, his voice flat as he answered, “It wasn’t my call. The scene wasn’t going the way Hux wanted it to.”

 

“And the problem?” Snoke growled.

 

“A few things. The angles weren’t right, Tori was sore, there wasn’t enough…”

 

Once again, Snoke interrupted him.

 

“I gave you a start in this business for a reason.  _ You  _ are the one with creative vision, not Hux. If the scene isn’t going well, I expect  _ you  _ to find a way to fix it. Is that clear?”

 

Kylo ground his teeth together. “Yes.”

 

“You sound...irritated. Do you disagree with my expectations?”

 

Kylo drew a breath and forced himself to maintain a neutral tone as he replied, “I’m grateful for the guidance you’ve given me.”

 

There was a tense silence on the other end of the line before Snoke purred, “You certainly don’t sound grateful, Kylo Ren. Do I need to remind you that if I hadn’t offered you this option and agreed to help you bury your past, you would most likely still be languishing in prison?”

 

Kylo clenched his fingers around his phone so hard it’s a miracle it didn’t break as icy fingers gripped his guts. He quickly deflated, mumbling deferentially,

 

“No, sir.”

 

After a moment, he heard Snoke sigh.

 

“By the end of the day on Monday, I want that film finished. Is that understood?”

 

“Yes,” Kylo responded numbly.

 

He stood for a few minutes, the phone still at his ear, after Snoke unceremoniously hung up. He felt numb, trapped - but there was nothing he could do about any of it.  All he wanted now was a shower and dinner. Short-term goals were good distractions when he was feeling hopeless about long-term ones.

 

As he stalked to the main exit, he caught a glimpse of the PA who’d handed him his robe - she was on her phone, crouched in a corner, her face split open in the toothiest grin he’d ever seen as she laughed boisterously at whatever the person on the other end of the line was telling her. Obviously having a much better phone conversation than he’d just had.

 

He slowed for a second, staring, and then quickly shook himself and proceeded through the door and out into the evening.

 

No one should have teeth that bright. They were probably whitened, he thought bitterly as he climbed into his car. 

 

Everyone was fake. 

 

~~

 

He went home, as he always did, to decide what to do with his evening. Not that it ever really varied that much - or, at all.

 

Every night, he stayed in and ordered food and a movie.  He rarely, if ever, went out. There were several reasons for that, but they basically boiled down to not wanting to socialize with other people. It wasn’t that he didn’t know how, or was afraid - he just didn’t particularly find anybody very interesting.

 

Also, when he went out, it was inevitable that he would be approached by at least one woman looking for a hook-up. He wasn’t particularly attractive, but he was very tall and fairly muscular. Some of them even recognized him from time to time, which led to them approaching him with bright eyes and vibrating with excitement at the thought of going home with someone they assumed would be a god in bed.

 

Ironically, he had absolutely no interest in that. Ever. 

 

His job revolved around having sex and, contrary to popular belief, it wasn’t something he did because he loved sex.  If anything, his profession had tainted his view of the whole thing - he had fucked countless people, men and women, for years. Thousands, in every way possible. There was probably not a sex act in existence that he hadn’t done, and he rarely failed to get the job done. Get to set, get hard, stay hard for hours and deliver a carefully-timed money shot.

 

But it was perfunctory, emotionless and mechanical. A job - and if he didn’t even have much interest in doing it in that context, he certainly had no interest in doing it outside of work. Needless to say, it had crippled his personal life, but he was generally alright with being alone.

 

People tended to dislike him, anyway.

 

Sighing and walking to his fridge, he pulled out a bottle of beer. Unscrewing it and tossing the cap in the trash, he took a long swig before dropping onto his couch and flipping on his rather impressive TV to watch the news for a minute before picking a movie.

 

His condo, at least, was spectacular. He’d had a decorator come in when he’d first bought it, so overwhelmed with the large space that he thought it would be helpful for someone to help him furnish it properly. In the end, though, he’d lived in it for a month before deciding it felt like he was living in someone else’s place. So, he’d sold half of what she put in there and bought replacements where necessary - as a result, the overall style was sort of a mash up between tasteful and his own mess of things.

 

Settling in, he opened the drawer of his coffee table and pulled out the large stack of well-worn menus. 

 

_ God, I’m so sick of everything _ , he thought as he thumbed through. Pizza, Asian...he was tired of it all. 

 

Sighing, he threw the menus back in the drawer and thought for a minute. There was an old pub a few blocks away that he’d never been to - it had been there for ages. He’d recently read a write-up in the Reader that said they had excellent gumbo.

 

For some reason, that sounded really good to him. Not only that, they were bound to have baseball on, and he had missed the last two games because of work.

 

Standing and throwing his coat back on before he could talk himself out of it, he turned the TV off and headed out the door.

 

Something a little different couldn’t hurt.

 

~~

 

“But do they actually make the beer out of oatmeal?” the man asked, and Rey thought to herself that he looked a lot like Danny DeVito.

 

“Well, they add oats to the mash during the brewing process. Makes the beer really smooth.”

 

“Does it taste like oatmeal, though?”

 

“It’s really dark,” Rey explained, “Bitter, but if you like that kind of thing then I say try it! Personally, I think it tastes a bit like…”

 

As she was speaking, she saw someone come through the door out of the corner of her eye. Her eyes bugged out and she actually crouched down behind the bar as she recognized him.

 

“ _ Shit! _ ”

 

“That’s a ringing endorsement,” Maz drawled, her eyes still on the tapper as she poured the first half of a Guinness and set it down to settle.

 

“No, I just...oh, God, you’ve got to be  _ kidding  _ me!”

 

Maz turned, frowned and then looked down, spotting Rey practically lying on the floor.

 

“What in God’s name are you doing?”

 

“The guy that just walked in, he...uh, I know him from...work.”

 

Maz pushed her thick glasses up the bridge of her nose and squinted at the newcomer, who was peeling off his leather jacket and checking out the baseball game that was on the far TV.

 

“And you don’t like him, is that it?”

 

“Well, not exactly. I don’t really know him. We never even spoke to each other, but…”

 

“But?” Maz asked, frowning down at Rey, who looked back up at her meekly and finished,

 

“I’d just really rather not mix that job with this one.”

 

Maz scrutinized her for a full thirty seconds before she glanced back over at Kylo Ren and inclined her head in his direction.

 

“Go on, pour him his drink. You set the tone.”

 

“Can’t you take him?”

 

“Sorry, kiddo,” Maz shook her head, turning back around to finish the Guinness, “This is my last pour of the day. I’ve got a date with Netflix and fuzzy slippers.”

 

Rey sighed, resigned, and slowly rose from her hiding place. Trying not to look any more pathetic than she already did, she began to walk away when the customer she’d been speaking to before her little panic attack stopped her.

 

“Hey, um...I think I will try that stout. When you get a second.”

 

Rey blinked at him, uncomprehending as the fog of dread still circled her brain, and then quickly pulled herself together and replied, “Sorry, I was...I’ll, um, get it for you. Do you want a glass?”

 

“Sure.”

 

That man was eyeing her as though she was a basketcase, and she couldn’t blame him. Flashing him a smile, she made her way over to where Kylo Ren was sitting, his eyes still on the TV, his shirtsleeves rolled up and his large hands resting on the bar in front of him.

 

She prayed he didn’t recognize her. He’d been...preoccupied, after all, and she was only a PA. Even if he didn’t, she would have to stop internally cringing about the fact that she had spent the day watching this guy have sex not ten feet from her long enough to serve him as though he were any other customer.

 

When she finally stood in front of him, he turned his attention to her - and froze, almost imperceptibly.

 

_ Shit. _

 

Shit, shit, _ shit. _

 

“Hi,” she croaked, blindly grasping for a beer list. She figured it was better to just not acknowledge the elephant in the room unless he did first, because he obviously  _ did  _ remember her, and just get on with taking his order.

 

And to  _ not  _ think about the fact that she knew exactly what his erect penis looked like, even though they’d never exchanged so much as a tepid pleasantry, much less a conversation.

 

When he didn’t respond to her greeting, his face carefully blank, she gamely asked, “What can I get you to drink?”

 

For a moment, she thought he might stand up and walk out, but then she figured he  _ must _ get recognized sometimes. In reality, lots of people watched porn - Rey herself did too, on occasion. Still, being recognized by a fan and running into someone who had just spent a day on set getting a live show were probably two very different things.

 

She couldn’t even wrap her brain around what that would be like for him, so she simply stood there as he mulled things over. 

 

Finally, he muttered, “Just a Budweiser.”

 

“Draft, or bottle?”

 

“Draft.”

 

It was brief and brusque, and that was more than fine with Rey. She reached behind her and grabbed an oatmeal stout for the guy around the other side, almost tripping over the spill mat in her haste to get away, and then set about pouring Kylo Ren’s beer.

 

She felt him watching her as she worked and had to restart the pour three times because it just kept coming out with too much head. Either they’d just changed the keg, which was the likely explanation, or else whatever deity controlled the universe was bent on punishing her for something.

 

Maybe both. These two possibilities weren’t mutually exclusive.

 

She carried the pint back to where he was sitting and tossed a coaster in front of him before setting it down.   _ Work _ , she coached herself. She knew how to work, and that’s all she had to do. She could do this - he was just a person.

 

Even if he had unwittingly trapped her into talking to him.

 

“Did you want a menu?”

 

“Is it worth looking at?” he asked flatly, his eyes on the TV.

 

“Sorry?”

 

He brought his gaze back to her and said, “Tell me about the gumbo.”

 

She shrugged, annoyed with his attitude, but tried to answer his question, “It’s got peppers, sausage, rice…”

 

“Is it any good?” he interrupted, his brows furrowed as though he was annoyed with her. She could feel herself start to bristle.

 

“It’s spectacular.”

 

He eyed her and took a sip from his beer before muttering, “You would say that. You work here.”

 

“Then why did you ask me?” she snapped, and then quickly backpedaled as he leaned back, his frown deepening.

 

It wasn’t her place to get nasty with Maz’s customers. She needed to tone it down. She didn’t get a chance to say anything, though, before he was speaking again, almost to himself.

 

“More hair than wit,” he mumbled under his breath.

 

Rey saw red. It wasn’t the insult that made her angry as much as the assumption that she would have no idea what he was talking about, as though she was some uneducated twit just because she worked odd jobs. As if  _ he  _ was one to judge.

 

Well, he had another thing coming. 

 

Raising a brow and trying to look imperious instead of enraged, she shot back, “And you have more faults than hairs. Which is saying something.”

 

He couldn’t have looked more gobsmacked if she had actually slapped him in the face. Emboldened by his reaction and feeling quite smug, she spun on her heel, addressing him over her shoulder as she went.

 

“I’ve got to check on my other customer. When you decide whether or not you want to try the gumbo, let me know.”

 

She grabbed the gentleman on the other side of the bar another drink and about three minutes later, she saw Kylo Ren get up and stalk out the way he’d come in. When she went back, fully expecting that he had walked out without paying, it was to a settled check.

 

She frowned and picked it up - his pint had cost four dollars. He’d left her twenty.

 

Grimacing as she stuffed the twenty in her apron, she cleared his spot and wondered what the hell it was going to be like the next time she walked onto his set. She didn’t want to think about it, and so was inordinately glad when a party of ten revellers celebrating a birthday walked through the door and kept her busy for the rest of the shift.

 

_ I don’t have bad interactions with customers, _ Rey thought to herself,  _ but of course when I do, it  _ would  _ involve trading Shakespearean insults with a porn star. _

 

If someone else had been telling her this story, she wouldn’t have believed them.

 


	2. Gumbo and James Joyce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I NEVER do this, but I revised the last chapter as this fic evolved in my head from crack to something with an actual plot that I wanted to tie in more tightly with SW canon as far as parallels and characterization. So, please go back and reread so that the story makes sense moving forward, if you are inclined to keep reading! 
> 
> Sorry, I know that's sort of annoying, but hopefully the changes are an improvement...

Kylo sat on his couch, contemplative and more than a bit unsettled.

 

It wasn’t that unusual, was it? Shakespeare wasn’t exactly some obscure, little known playwright - and she  _ was  _ English. 

 

He just hadn’t expected that girl, of all people, to shove his own medicine down his throat so effortlessly.

 

It wasn’t that he was ashamed of what he did, necessarily. It was a means to an end, same as any other job. He didn’t really care what anyone thought of it, or of him for doing it - but he did tend to use his intellect as a weapon. He enjoyed throwing out literary references at people and it made him feel superior when they didn’t catch it. When he did find himself forced to talk to people, he liked starting debates about mundane things and then taking it in an esoteric direction so that the other person couldn’t keep up.

 

He knew it was petty, but it was his malicious little way of reminding himself that he was more than what he was doing. His education hadn’t been in vain, he was still a product of literary geniuses, and he still had command over his future. He still had what it took to live up to his legacy.

 

Snoke would tell him that quoting long-dead playwrights and poets didn’t translate into originality and success. He never failed to remind Kylo that he had yet to produce anything worth publishing, much less performing on stage.

 

He also never missed a chance to throw the ghost of his Pulitzer Prize-winning grandfather in his face. Usually in the course of reminding him that he would probably never live up to him, in spite of everyone’s hopes.

 

Kylo sighed and took a sip from the beer that he’d opened before his bright idea to head out for dinner.  

 

He probably wouldn’t have even recognized her if it weren’t for those damn teeth. He should have just stayed and ordered the fucking soup like he originally planned to do, instead of running away like a dog with its tail between its legs.

 

He was startled out of his thoughts by his phone vibrating in his pocket.

 

_ Mother _ .

 

He declined the call without a second thought, then opened his contacts list - he only had about ten numbers stored, and half of them were numbers for takeout places. Picking one, he called in an order and then tucked his phone into his jeans pocket. Sighing, he took another swig of beer and then eyed the TV remote resignedly before grabbing it up. 

 

At least he could still watch baseball, even if he had a feeling the pizza that wasn’t going to be very satisfying.

 

_ Dammit _ , he thought to himself, leaning his head back as the Yankees hit a two-run homer and pulled ahead of the Red Sox. 

 

He was going to have to go back in there. If only to taste that damn soup.

 

Or at least, that’s what he decided to tell himself.

 

~~

 

Rey’s palms were sweaty as she waited on set Monday for everything to start up again. She’d taken the morning off at Plutt’s on Finn’s suggestion, but she knew she couldn’t do this all the time. Just this once, since FInn was right - the pay was better.

 

She couldn’t stop glancing around, wondering when the actors were going to make their appearances. The little encounter at Maz’s had been on her mind all weekend, and she had almost decided not to come back. The only reason she had was because she had a ridiculous urge to prove something, mostly to herself. An urge large enough that she was willing to endure the dressing-down she got from her rotund, wheezy employer.

 

When she’d talked to Finn about what had happened, he’d just laughed.

 

“Of course, your first day on set and then you run into Kylo Ren socially. I mean, I’ve heard the guy is practically a hermit, so the chances of that happening were probably worse than the chances of you winning the lottery.”

 

“It wasn’t social, I was at work.” 

 

Finn had shrugged and simply said, “Well, you’re at work now, too. So is he.  Just do your job, he’ll do his and it’ll be fine.”

 

Rey grimaced at him and replied, “Thanks for the encouragement.”

 

They didn’t have a chance to say much more - the scene was set and Finn had to go attend to his job, while Rey was given several errands to run before they got started. Fetch water bottles for the actors, towels, an extra bottle of lube and...deliver an enema kit to one of the makeshift dressing rooms. 

 

“Oh, Christ,” Rey murmured under her breath, flushing beet red and getting angry at herself for her own immaturity, “I really,  _ really  _ need to stick to fixing phones and pouring pints.”

 

The flurry of activity kept her distracted and not thinking of her conundrum until the actors themselves walked on set, in their robes. To her immense relief, Kylo Ren didn’t even glance in her direction as he got undressed and began to take direction from Hux.

 

They were finishing the scene they’d begun on Friday, and this time it was much easier for Rey to simply detach from the content of the scene and focus on attending to her duties. She went back and forth between cast and crew, sharing her job with one other male PA, giving water and mopping brows and doing other menial tasks.

 

The scene was almost over and everything had gone relatively smoothly with no awkwardness. Or it had until the moment when, right in the middle of the scene, Kylo Ren looked up - and straight at Rey. 

 

Their eyes met momentarily before Rey quickly looked away, flustered beyond belief.

 

A few seconds later, he pulled out of his costar and came all over her back.

 

“Cut! Good, that’s in the can,” Hux said with satisfied finality as he motioned to the camera operators, “It’s a wrap. Go home and see everyone next week - well, everyone but you, Ren. Snoke called this morning and said to tell you you’re officially on vacation for two weeks. Unpaid, just to be clear.”

 

The smirk that he threw Kylo Ren as he finished his sentence made her think there wasn’t much love lost between the two men, but her musing was interrupted as the wardrobe assistant shoved a robe in her hands and commanded,

 

“Here, go give this to Kylo, then help pack up the lighting stuff and you can collect your pay and go.”

 

She clutched the soft robe in her fingers and swallowed, quickly moving to where Kylo Ren still stood, naked as the day he was born with a flagging, spent erection. Clearing her throat, she held out the garment to him and tried not to look him in the face - but failed. Their eyes met again, his expression inscrutable.

 

Just as she was about to walk away without a word, she heard him mumble a low, “Thank you.”

 

She didn’t reply. She just wanted to finish her work and get out of there. She had to be at Plutt’s that afternoon, as he’d only given her the morning off, and she had to say that it was the first time that she had ever looked forward to hunching over broken iPhones in that sweaty little shop.

 

~~

 

It was Friday before she knew it, and she didn’t realize that she hadn’t entertained a single stray thought about Kylo Ren since she’d seen him on Monday until the moment he walked through the front door of Maz’s again.

 

She barely managed to keep her expression neutral as he caught sight of her and sat down almost warily, a newspaper in his hand.

 

Biting back a sigh, she walked over to him - she really had no excuse not to, since there wasn’t another soul in there yet. She expected it would get busy with the dinner crowd a bit later, but at the moment it was dead.

 

“Hi,” she greeted, sounding distinctly unenthusiastic, “Budweiser?”

 

“Yeah. And I’ll have a bowl of that gumbo this time, too.”

 

He didn’t sound thrilled either, and she wondered why the hell he’d come back. Not even Maz’s gumbo was worth this.

 

“Want the game on?”

 

“Sure.”

 

She flipped to baseball on the TV in front of him, then walked away to get his pint and his gumbo. When she went back and set it down, he didn’t say anything and she didn’t meet his eyes, but she felt him staring at her and it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

 

Her hackles, she thought to herself. This guy  _ really  _ rubbed her the wrong way. Which was ironic considering his profession, she laughed grimly to herself.

 

Hopefully he was only back to sate his apparent compulsion to try the gumbo and would never come back again. She had just begun to walk away when he spoke, his voice deep and wry.

 

“You know, some say  Shakespeare is the happy hunting ground of all minds that have lost their balance. ”

 

She froze, then turned back to him and frowned. 

 

Was he  _ testing  _ her? 

 

He was certainly looking at her as if he was, his dark eyes boring into her as though waiting for something to happen. She didn’t like his tone, but she found she couldn’t just walk away. She couldn’t let him win.

 

Especially not wielding James Joyce as a weapon. Pretentious bastard.

 

She smiled brightly, relishing the flicker of discomfort that crossed his face at the sudden change in attitude, and then walked back over to him and planted her hands on the bar in front of him.

 

“Mr. Leopold Bloom ate with relish the inner organs of beasts and fowls. He liked thick giblet soup, nutty gizzards, a stuffed roast heart, liverslices fried with crustcrumbs, fried hencods' roes. Most of all he liked grilled mutton kidneys which gave to his palate a fine tang of faintly scented  _ urine.” _

 

She emphasized the last word for maximum effect. His lips parted as he stared at her, once again defeated - no,  _ trounced  _ \- at his own game, and she inclined her head as she finished, “And on that note, I hope you enjoy your gumbo more than I enjoyed  _ Ulysses _ .”

 

She began to walk away again and he murmured at her retreating back, “What the fuck…”

 

Glaring over her shoulder, she snapped, “You wanted Joyce? You got Joyce.”

 

“You spend your free time memorizing obscure, rambling passages from literary classics you don’t even like?”

 

“I don’t  _ have  _ any free time,” she muttered, “And no, actually, my dissertation at Cambridge was in modern literature.”

 

He blinked, then didn’t bother to disguise his disbelief as he asked flatly, “ _ You _ have a Masters from Cambridge?”

 

This piqued Rey all over again - why  _ not  _ her? Frowning and deciding she was through standing there being judged by him with every word out of his mouth, she grumbled,

 

“No. I’m a barmaid who sometimes also works other shitty jobs as well so I can save enough to finish grad school. Okay?”

 

With that, she walked away, determined to polish every single solitary glass that Maz had in the house until they were so clean you couldn’t even see them. She set upon this task with single-minded fierceness, so much so that she actually did forget about the sullen, strange tosser at the end of the bar for a good fifteen minutes. When she finally did come back to herself and realize she should probably check on him, she looked over to find him gone.

 

His money was, once again, lying on the bar beside his empty glass and his even more empty bowl. She glanced at it and frowned.

 

His bill totalled $9.65 for the beer and the soup. He wouldn’t know that, since he hadn’t bothered to ask her for it.  Still, she was damn sure he was smart enough to know that leaving a twenty was overkill. Again. 

 

What did he think she was, some kind of charity case? 

 

Shaking her head and picking up the dishes, she shoved the money in her pocket and sighed. If he wanted to overtip her as some kind of lackluster apology for being a weirdo and forcing her to participate in his little games, fine. She wouldn’t say no to some extra cash.

 

Even if she did sort of wish she could throw it back in his face.

 

~~~

 

Kylo walked back home, barely registering the chill in the air, and then right past his door.  He needed the fresh air, he thought to himself, his fists shoved into his jacket pockets and his jaw clenched.

 

It was ridiculous that someone like her even  _ existed _ , much less in his very limited circle of acquaintances. What was she even doing in the States, anyway? Surely she hadn’t come all the way over here to work in a bar?

 

Yet, here she was - a bartender who apparently had a degree from Cambridge. Unless she was lying, although that would mean her apparently ironclad grip on things like James-fucking-Joyce was something she’d cultivated in her spare time and that was an even more tantalizingly dangerous possibility for him to consider. 

 

It didn’t even matter. She had effectively wormed her way into his thoughts by repeatedly and unapologetically knocking him on his proverbial ass and leaving him breathless in her wake.

 

He didn’t even know her name. 

 

_ Galatea _ , he thought briefly to himself, and then shook his head to clear it. He felt like he wanted to punch something.

 

He needed to get ahold of himself. He was starting to slide into unchartered territory. He had other things to be focusing on, he didn’t have time for this kind of bullshit. Snoke would have his head on a platter if he thought he was getting distracted.

 

Even as he thought this, he knew that he’d be going back to that place. 

 

Soon.

 

The gumbo was excellent. If nothing else, he decided that it was worth going back for that.

 

~~

 

As it turned out, ‘soon’ meant the next day.

 

Rey was merrily chatting with Finn when Kylo Ren walked in once again, and this time Rey didn’t hide the scowl on her face when their eyes met.

 

“Come on,” she groused under her breath, “Seriously?”

 

Finn frowned at her sudden mood swing, then followed her gaze to where Kylo Ren was now pulling out a bar stool to sit on, his eyes still on Rey.

 

“Oh, crap,” Finn breathed, more taken aback than anything, “I thought you said it was awkward and not-great when he came in here before?”

 

“Yeah, and again yesterday.”

 

Finn’s brows lifted in surprise and he asked, “What, he’s a regular now?”

 

“Seems that way,” Rey complained, wiping her hands on her towel and mentally preparing herself to go down and greet him, “I’m starting to think I should switch my schedule to avoid him.”

 

“That could work - unless he starts coming in every day,” he quipped, then got serious at the expression on Rey’s face and added appeasingly, “Hey, it’s not that bad. He must live around here, and the big boss gave him some mandatory vacation time for some reason. Sounds like they had a falling out. He’s probably just annoyed and bored.”

 

“Those do seem to be his only two settings,” she muttered, heading down the bar, “Maybe I should recommend some video games he can play. At home.”

 

Finn’s laughter followed her across the bar, lifting her spirits a little bit as she approached her new least-favorite customer. He glanced up as she came to stand in front of him, arms crossed.

 

“Budweiser and gumbo?”

 

He nodded, then said, “And I’ll look at the menu.”

 

_ Brilliant _ , she thought bitterly as she handed it to him and poured his beer. Every time he came in, he was there for a longer amount of time. She didn’t like the trend.

 

At least Finn was there tonight, to keep her company - or, that’s what she’d assumed, but soon realized she might have gotten ahead of herself at the sight of Finn pulling his coat on.

 

“Wait a minute,” she protested desperately, stopping short of jumping over the bar and tackling him, “Where are you going?”

 

“Yeah, sorry,” he said apologetically, “I’ve got a date tonight.”

 

“What? A date?”

 

“Yeah, I finally asked that engineering student out,” he beamed, “I told you about her - Rose?”

 

“Oh, yeah,” Rey murmured, slightly appeased, “You did. That’s great, I’m glad you finally grew a pair and did it!”

 

“Shut up, I work slow,” he grumbled, and she smiled brightly at him before begging, 

 

“Listen, if you decide you want a nightcap after the movie, bring her by. I’ll give you a round for free and I promise I won’t embarrass you. Much.”

 

“Right, sounds like a spectacular plan,” Finn said sarcastically, then bid goodbye to Rey and, to Rey’s horror, gave a small salute to Kylo Ren on the other side of the bar.

 

“Why are you calling his attention over here?” she hissed.

 

“I didn’t, he’s been staring at us this whole time. You should get over there before he decides to torch the place or something. That guy has a legendary temper.”

 

“He wants to order food. I’ll go over when I’m good and ready, and not before.”

 

Finn smirked at her, then turned and walked out the back door. She sighed, knowing she had to go back over to Kylo Ren eventually, and decided she might as well get it over with now.  Grabbing his gumbo before going over and trying not to be flat-out rude, she pinned him with a questioning look and asked,

 

“Know what you want?”

 

“What?”

 

Raising a brow, she clarified, “To eat?”

 

“Oh,” he mumbled, seeming slightly distracted, “No, I’ll decide once I’m done with the soup.”

 

She nodded and went to leave him be when he stopped her.

 

“Can I ask you something?”

 

She cast her eyes skyward before slowly turning back to him and saying tiredly, “If you’re about to start another quote war, I’m really not up for it…”

 

“It’s about the crossword.”

 

She glanced down, confused, and realized he had the paper in front of him. Blinking at him, she found herself repeating stupidly,

 

“The crossword?”

 

“Mmm-hmm,” he hummed, tapping his pencil against the newspaper and explaining, “I need a five-letter word. The clue is ‘Homer’s love’, first letter is M.  I’m a little rusty on my Greek tragedies, so...I thought maybe you’d have some input.”

 

Rey stared at him, struggling to process this shift in demeanor. He wasn’t being friendly, exactly, but the fact that he wasn’t passive-aggressively belittling her was definitely outside the norm. After a long moment in which he looked up from the puzzle to stare back at her expectantly - with what she could have  _ sworn  _ was a hint of nervousness - she replied,

 

“I think the name you’re looking for is ‘Marge’.

 

He frowned and repeated blankly, “Marge?”

 

She smiled in spite of herself, watching as his eyes flickered down to her mouth and back up again, and clarified, “You never watched The Simpsons? Too lowbrow?”

 

Rey observed with relish as realization dawned on his face, and then he flushed from the bottom of his throat to the tips of his ears. He cleared his throat and blew out his breath in a sharp huff.

 

“I...yeah. Shit. That would be it.”

 

He met her eyes again, still red, and she raised a brow disdainfully.

 

“Maybe stick to Joyce,” she said, and he shook his head, his hand going to scratch the back of his neck.

 

“Pop culture isn’t my thing.”

 

“Apparently. And by the way, it’s cheating to fill out a crossword in pencil.”

 

The corner of his mouth quirked in the closest thing to a smile he’d ever given her, and she suddenly felt unnerved. She was very glad that a group of three young women chose that moment to walk into the bar and demand her attention so that she didn’t have to figure out how to relate to him in the context of this paradigm shift.

 

Or, she was, until one of the women actually recognized him.

 

“Oh my God, you guys,” she whispered conspiratorially to her friends, “That guy sitting at the corner of the bar - I think he’s a porn actor!”

 

Rey almost spilled the wine she was pouring.

 

“Seriously?” one of the others said, and blatantly craned her neck to take a look, “How would you even know that, Kel?”

 

“Oh, please, like you never watch porn.”

 

“Not enough to recognize the actors! Especially not the men, aren’t they basically just big dicks?”

 

“I mean some of them, but I know that guy. I like, read some interview he did once with Maxim.”

 

“Okay, so now you watch porn  _ and  _ read Maxim? Is there something you want to tell us?”

 

“It was in the dentist’s office, asshole. But seriously, I dare one of you to go hit on him.”

 

“Yeah, okay. Let’s go hit on the porn guy who probably has ten STDs.”

 

“I didn’t say sleep with him, I said hit on him. But hey, he’s gotta be good in bed, right?”

 

“Well, you’d think. Except that everyone knows porn screams are fake.”

 

“True.”

 

Rey found herself getting more and more uncomfortable as she listened to the conversation, glancing over at Kylo Ren where he was quietly eating the burger he’d eventually ordered and watching basketball. She knew that he was probably used to this kind of thing, and that he did actually make his living doing sex work, but she didn’t like the way these women were talking about him - like he was some kind of sideshow.

 

She may not particularly like the guy, but he was still one of her patrons. For the moment, anyway.

 

“He’s not very personable,” Rey found herself interjecting, causing all three girls to look at her wide-eyed, “He keeps to himself.”

 

“You mean he comes here a lot?”

 

Rey cringed inwardly and deflected, “It doesn’t take long to know when a person isn’t interested in random conversation. Trust me.”

 

“That’s even better - a challenge,” one of them said, wiggling her eyebrows and raising her glass. She was off her stool and standing next to Kylo practically before Rey could blink, and from the expression on his face, he wasn’t happy.

 

Rey got flagged by another customer and couldn’t get there right away, and by the time she was finished, the girl was back in her seat looking shaken. On her way past, she heard one of her friends exclaim indignantly,

 

“Well, he must be gay then, if he said that to you!”

 

Trying to suppress a smug smile at what was obviously a well-deserved rejection, Rey walked over to Kylo and found him pulling out his wallet with an intense look on his face.

 

“What, she didn’t pass your grand literary test?”

 

His eyes shot up to meet hers and he gave his head a little shake.

 

“People never do,” he mumbled, and then he stilled as he pulled his money out, suddenly staring at her.

 

“What?” she asked when the silence had gone on long enough to turn uncomfortable and she had to fight the urge to squirm under his scrutiny.

 

“What’s your name?”

 

The question took her by surprise, even though it wasn’t strange to have a customer ask it. Coming from him, it seemed unexpected.

 

“Rey,” she replied automatically, and he held her gaze for a few seconds before pulling on his jacket and bidding her a quiet,

 

“Have a good night, Rey.”

 

With that, he was out the door, and Rey let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. She decided not to take issue with his ridiculously large tip for once, content to simply put it in her pocket and consider that maybe she deserved it for having to deal with his unique brand of morose peculiarity. 

 

Especially if it was going to be on a regular basis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and I hope you keep reading and liking this! It's really taking on a mind of its own, but it's just so darn fun to write. 
> 
> Visit me on Tumblr at Emmyjeanb!


	3. A Night at the Theater

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is all Rey's POV. I didn't plan it that way, it's just what happened. More Kylo in the next chapter, I suspect. Thanks for sticking with this!

The next time she worked at Maz’s, the place was absolutely packed. It seemed like everyone in there was having a birthday, people were ordering shots left and right, and Maz herself was forced to stay late to help Rey deal with the crowd.

 

As exhausting as it was, Rey didn’t mind. She’d had a falling out with Plutt over some parts that he’d accused her of stealing, and she had angrily - and perhaps impulsively - quit over it. She knew that Maz would let her pick up shifts, and she found working for her to be far preferable to working with that sweaty mouth-breather anyway.

 

At around ten o’clock she noticed Kylo Ren walking in the door - it was late for him, he was usually gone by ten. He scowled at the wall of people around the bar and looked none-too-happy at the fact that there were no empty stools. His eyes scanned the room and stopped when they landed on Rey.

 

She offered a small smile, but it was Maz who ended up serving him his beer when he finally got a chance to order one.

 

She lost track of him after that and only thought of him again about an hour later, when Maz walked up to her during a small lull and handed her an envelope.

 

“That tall gentleman - the one you said you worked with? He asked me to give you this before he left. I don’t know what it is, before you ask. I didn’t look.”

 

Rey took the envelope and frowned, wondering what in the world it could be. She was about to open it, but was interrupted by a group of five people flagging her down to order food. Shoving the envelope in the pocket of her apron, she got back to work and forgot all about it.

 

~~

 

When she finally got home that night after two in the morning, the landlord’s big orange cat was waiting on the stairs for her as usual.

 

“Hey, BB,” she cooed gently, bending to scratch his head as she mounted the staircase. 

 

He followed her up and she let him go into her apartment ahead of her. She sighed as she took off her coat, hanging it up before reaching behind her to untie the string on the apron she’d never taken off. She’d been so eager to get out of there, she didn’t even bother counting out her tips before rushing out the door. Tossing it on the couch to deal with in a minute, she laughed as BB tried to climb her leg.

 

“I know you’re just using me for my comfy old sofa...and the treats I shouldn’t be giving you,” she teased him as she went to the kitchen to get his treats and her tea. She couldn’t go to sleep at night without having had a steaming hot mug of tea, no matter what time she finally got home.

 

After putting the water on to boil and slipping into her pajamas, she padded to the sofa where BB was already waiting, and he gave a soft meow. His owner fed and cared for him well, but the incorrigible creature was greedy and enjoyed spending the early morning hours having his appetite supplemented by Rey. 

 

She and Poe, her landlord, laughed about it often. He said it was fine with him, since he tended to put the cat out when he had a guest for the night.

 

He claimed BB had a jealous heart.

 

This wasn’t a problem at Rey’s place, obviously, since she couldn’t even remember the last time she invited anyone back to her apartment. She was fine with that - she had other things in her life that needed to take priority for the time being.

 

As she flipped the TV on and searched for something mindless to watch for twenty minutes, she reached over and pulled her apron to her. Plunging her hand into the pocket where she kept her money and intending to count it, she blinked as she encountered something that was decidedly  _ not  _ money. 

 

It was the envelope that Kylo Ren had left with Maz for her. 

 

She had completely forgotten about it and now pulled it out of her pocket, eager to see what in the world could be inside. Opening it, she reached in and pulled out a single ticket.

 

_ A theater ticket _ , she realized with a small frown. For a show at a theater she’d never heard of downtown.

 

“This is for tomorrow night,” she murmured absently to BB, checking the envelope one more time for something she may have missed. There was no note, nothing else in the envelope. It didn’t even have her name on the front of it.

 

A thought occurred to her, ludicrous enough to make her smile - but then her smile faded as she thought more about it and realized that it was quite possibly the most plausible explanation.

 

Was this his way of asking her on a  _ date _ ?

 

“No way,” she said vehemently to the cat, “Who would ask someone out like this? Especially for the first time? You’d have to be totally socially inept.”

 

The orange cat just looked at her and cocked his head, unable to give her any answers.

 

Maybe he had the ticket already and had to get rid of it - why  _ her _ , though? Because of their little quote-off, and now he thought she was interested in drama?

 

Which she was, but it was a pretty large assumption to make without asking. They didn’t even really know each other.

 

Was this some kind of set-up? Was he making fun of her somehow? He was sort of a jerk, but she couldn’t imagine anyone going to such an extreme just to make someone feel bad. Especially when he didn’t exactly strike her as a practical joke-type person.

 

As she thought, she had absently stood and wandered over to her bedroom closet to browse through what she might have that would be suitable for a night at the theater. 

 

Date or no date.

 

Later, she’d realize that she couldn’t even pinpoint the moment when she’d decided to actually take his ticket and go - somewhere along the way, as she’d mused through the possible implications of the odd gift, it had just become a given.

 

After all, how could she say no to a free ticket to a play?

 

~~

 

She spotted him right away, leaning against a lamppost outside the front of the theater - honestly, he was too tall to miss. 

 

_ Well _ , she thought to herself,  _ it clearly wasn’t a ticket he himself hadn’t been able to use, and it wasn’t a prank. _

 

That left only one plausible option. Rey was already feeling so anxious about the entire situation, from what she was wearing to whether or not she was actually insane for even coming, that she still questioned herself about it.

 

Maybe she was reading it wrong. Maybe there was still another explanation.

 

He turned his head and his eyes landed on her. She may have imagined it, but she could have sworn he looked relieved to see her. Making his way through the small crowd of people milling around on the sidewalk, waiting for the doors to open, he soon stood in front of her. She had to admit that he looked very nice, in his black button-down shirt and dark jeans.

 

“Hi,” she said, somewhat stupidly.

 

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he replied by way of greeting, his eyes skimming her form almost imperceptibly. She wondered briefly if the light dress was overkill as he went on, “You were so busy the other night, I didn’t get a chance to formally invite you.”

 

“Well, the ticket sort of spoke for itself,” she said, shrugging, “Thanks, by the way.”

 

“My pleasure,” he replied, “I thought you might enjoy this.”

 

“I haven’t actually been to the theater in a long time,” she confessed as they made their way to the doors, “No time, and it’s…well, it can be expensive.”

 

He hummed in agreement. Knowing it was now or never, she took a breath and decided to seize this moment to broach the subject.

 

“By the way, what do I owe you? For the ticket, I mean?”

 

He glanced down at her, a strange look on his face, and answered, “Nothing. I asked  _ you _ .”

 

Quirking a brow, she teased lightly, “Technically, you didn’t. You didn’t even leave a note.”

 

Suddenly, she noticed a flush creeping into his complexion and realized she was actually embarrassing him. Quickly, she dialed it back, not wanting their interaction to grow strained again if she was about to spend the next two hours sitting next to him in the dark.

 

“I mean, like I said, the ticket was mostly self-explanatory...”

 

“I don’t do this very often,” he cut her off gently, “Actually, I never do, so I’m not very good at it. Just to make it clear, I’m operating under the impression that this is a date.”

 

She swallowed as her nervousness spiked, probably along with her blood pressure. She’d suspected that, but hearing it from him made her question herself all over again.

 

She was now officially on a date with a porn star who was also sort of an asshole. What the hell was she thinking? 

 

Instead of expressing this, however, she found herself nodding and simply saying, “Okay, then.”

 

He pressed his lips together and gave her a somewhat stilted nod as he reached out one long arm to push the door open for her. She went ahead of him into the lobby and decided that regardless of how bizarre this situation was, she was going to just let it go and enjoy the play. After all, she hadn’t been lying when she’d said she never really got a chance to do this, and she was already here.

 

They found their seats - prime ones, as it turned out - and she had to smile a bit at the way he was forced to fold himself into his. The theater was old, and he barely had room for his long legs in the space in front of him. It led to him having to manspread a bit out of necessity, and he muttered an apology as his thigh bumped her knee.

 

“Maybe you should have come and taken some measurements before buying the ticket,” she joked, and he cast her a look askance as he replied grimly,

 

“Next time, I’ll remember to request the front row.”

 

She laughed softly and he - well, his mouth twitched.

 

He really was the most morose person she’d ever met. This little departure seemingly hadn’t changed that.

 

They didn’t say much after that because the play began. It was a piece that was apparently written by an playwright that had just gotten her first break - this was the first time her work had been staged, according to Rey’s Playbill. It was a story that reminded Rey strongly of something Faulkner might have written, about a desolate part of the American south and a family’s struggles with their patriarch’s death.

 

In the end, it wasn’t the most original thing Rey had ever seen, but she had enjoyed it. She didn’t necessarily need originality if the pacing was good, and the lighting and set dressing had been spectacular.

 

They obviously hadn’t had much of a chance to chat during the performance, especially since Rey had taken the intermission time to use the bathroom, and so there was a sort of heavy expectation of having to come up with something to talk about hanging over their heads as they emerged from the theater afterwards. 

 

They walked in silence for a minute before Rey tentatively asked, “Um...where are we walking?”

 

He cleared his throat and replied, “I thought maybe we could get a drink?”

 

She was a little surprised he’d suggested extending the date - she didn’t feel like it had been much of a success thus far. They didn’t seem to have much to say to each other, and she was still wondering what had prompted him to ask her to come out in the first place. 

 

Still, she didn’t have anything else to do. Going for a nightcap was a preferable plan to going back to her empty flat.

 

“Sure.”

 

“There’s a place up here, nothing fancy. I like it because it doesn’t get crowded very often, even on a weekend.”

 

She nodded again and replied, “That sounds good, then.”

 

They walked in a not completely uncomfortable silence and, as promised, the place wasn’t more than a block away. They found a table in the corner and Rey took a long sip of her drink before setting it down and fiddling with the straw as she asked,

 

“So, I have to ask - what made you do this?”

 

He swallowed his beer and frowned slightly before answering, choosing his words carefully, “Joyce, I guess. You impressed me. I’m sorry if this seemed to come out of nowhere or if the way I went about it was weird. Like I said, I don’t ever do this.”

 

“Why not?” she asked, and it was only once the question left her mouth that she realized how horribly obtuse it sounded.

 

His eyes shot to hers and he regarded her closely, as if he was trying to gauge whether or not she was making fun of him.

 

“Pretty obvious, isn’t it?”

 

She shrugged, taking another huge gulp of her gin and tonic and thinking that she might as well go for it. She was curious, and he had to have assumed it would come up, anyway.

 

“So, your job? It’s a problem?”

 

He stared for a second and then answered her question with one of his own, spoken in a low voice. 

 

“Is it?”

 

She almost winced, but managed to contain it before she said, “I don’t know. I guess it depends on the person.”

 

He huffed out a small laugh. 

 

“Are we having a hypothetical conversation now?”

 

Frowning, she asked, “What do you mean?”

 

He sighed and shook his head, abruptly changing the subject.

 

“What did you think of the show?”

 

Rey blinked, then answered honestly, “I liked it. I didn’t love it, but I thought there were some really strong performances that elevated the material. And the technical side of it was stunning - I’ve never seen lighting used that way.”

 

He nodded and agreed, “I thought the dialogue was a little clunky and pedantic. Moreso in the first act - it seemed like the playwright had settled on a tone by the time the second act got going. The actors did the best they could with what they had to use.”

 

“It reminded me a little of  _ As I Lay Dying _ \- have you read that?”

 

“Faulkner? Yeah,” he said, and then shot her a look, “They put that on the curriculum at Cambridge?”

 

She blushed a little and admitted, “Well, I never went to Cambridge, so I wouldn’t know.”

 

He regarded her closely and, instead of teasing her about her previous lie, prodded perceptively, “But you’d like to?”

 

“Well, yeah, it would be a dream - an expensive one. My plan is actually to win the lottery, but so far, it’s been slow going.”

 

His mouth twitched as he wrapped his long fingers around his beer bottle, dwarfing it, and replied flatly, “Has it?”

 

“Mmm,” she confirmed in mock-seriousness, “In the past year, I’ve only won thirteen dollars. I think maybe the trick is to graduate from scratch-offs, but I haven’t been able to make the leap yet.”

 

“Thirteen’s a lucky number.”

 

“I’ve always heard the opposite, actually,” she replied, then returned his gaze for a bit longer than was necessary before shifting in her seat and asking, “You obviously have an interest in literature, too. Is that just a hobby, or...I mean…obviously your job isn’t…”

 

He let the silence stretch for a minute before prompting, “My job isn’t what?”

 

“I don’t know…” she waffled, and he leaned forward slightly, his eyes boring holes into her.

 

“Say it,” he demanded softly, and she held his gaze for a second before blowing out a breath.

 

“Academic?” she finished lamely.

 

The corner of his mouth turned up and he took a long pull off of his bottle before signaling the waitress and asking Rey, “Time for another round?”

 

“Sure.”

 

The waitress collected their empty glasses and he went on, “My job is just a job, like anyone else’s. It’s hard to find people who get that.”

 

“Well, it’s...unusual. You have to admit that.”

 

“You’re a bartender,” he pointed out, suddenly vehement, “It’s what you do, not who you are. You have other things you want to accomplish, and your job is a means to an end. It’s no different for me. I do what I have to do.”

 

She wanted to squirm, she was so uncomfortable under his intense scrutiny. It was as though he was trying to get her to admit something, or waiting for her to make a mistake. Rey decided that the less said on this subject, the better.

 

“Fair enough. So what things do you want to accomplish, then?”

 

For a second, he looked taken aback that she’d changed the subject so quickly and hadn’t argued his point. She wondered if people usually displayed a morbid curiosity about his work. Not that it was any of their business...unless, of course, you were a woman he was trying to date.

 

Shoving that thought aside and forbidding her brain to get ahead of itself, she listened as he told her he liked literature but it was drama he loved. He spoke of his dreams of publishing plays of his own one day, seeing them performed on stage. 

 

The more he shared, the more the taciturn man she’d met a couple weeks prior melted away into a man who was passionate and dynamic, and as their conversation began to flow more freely, she suspected he wasn’t a jerk so much as he was socially awkward and stilted.

 

_ And lonely _ , she realized as she watched him, listened to him.  _ Desperately so. _

 

The unbidden sentiment made her heart clench in a sudden wave of empathy. She knew that loneliness, had nearly drowned in it once. 

 

Sometimes, she still felt it. 

 

That thought made it easy for her to agree to a third round of drinks and conversation, which got easier and easier the longer they sat there together. By the time a natural lull in the conversation cropped up, Rey realized with a jolt that it was after midnight.

 

He insisted on grabbing her a cab, which she then insisted on sharing with him. He instructed the cabbie to drop her off first, and then to wait for him while he walked her to her door. They lingered there, the breeze tossing their hair across their foreheads as they each searched for something to say.

 

Something that would buy them a couple more minutes, even as the cab waited for him with its meter running. 

 

At first she didn’t understand the strange tension that was creating that sense of urgency, but then he sighed and looked down at his feet, shoving his hands in his pockets and murmuring softly,

 

“Look, Rey, I know my job is probably a dealbreaker for you...”

 

“Kylo…”

 

“That’s actually not my name,” he interrupted softly, looking back up to meet her eyes, “It’s Ben. But no one calls me that anymore.”

 

Brow furrowed, she asked, “Why not?”

 

He held her gaze and, instead of answering her question, he finished what he’d been saying a moment ago.

 

“I understand if you can’t get past it, and I wouldn’t hold it against you. But I really want to see you again, if...if you...”

 

He trailed off, at a loss for the right words. 

 

It was the moment Rey had been dreading all night, at the back of her mind. This was where she would tell him that she had a nice time, but she didn’t think it would work out in the long run. That she didn’t really date customers, but wouldn’t be opposed to hanging out ‘as friends’ even though she knew damn well that would never happen. That she would be moving away from LA as soon as she could get the money saved and so a relationship wasn’t what she wanted right then, but she was flattered that he was interested in her.

 

That, in reality, she wasn’t interested in starting something with a man who made his living having sex with other people.

 

Only as she stood there, looking up at his face, his expression guarded but heartbreakingly hopeful - and  _ handsome _ , she realized with a jolt - none of those things were what ended up coming out of her mouth.

 

“Yeah, okay.”

 

He froze, then repeated incredulously, “Okay?”

 

The words wouldn’t come out, so she just nodded. The expression that lit up his face nearly knocked her off her feet - grateful, awed. Humbled.

 

“Okay, then. Um - can I have your number?”

 

It took her a minute to comprehend what he was saying, and then she jumped to take the phone he was holding out to her.

 

“Right, yeah...of course.”

 

She quickly programmed it into his phone and gave it back to him. Their fingers brushed as he took it, and she was thrown by the shudder that went through her at the contact.

 

This was a bad idea. A terrible,  _ horrible  _ idea.

 

“Is tomorrow too soon?” he was asking her, and she meant to say yes, she was busy. To pump the breaks on this before it careened out of control.

 

Again, her mouth disobeyed her.

 

“Tomorrow’s good.”

 

“I’ll buy you dinner,” he offered, his voice doing nothing to hide his sheer joy at the fact that she hadn’t rejected him outright, “Is seven-thirty okay?”

 

“Yeah, that sounds great,” she said, trying to sound casual but failing miserably when it came out breathy and winded.

 

“I’ll call you, okay?”

 

She nodded again and gave him a smile. He hesitated for a second, then ducked his head and pressed a gentle kiss to the apple of her cheek.

 

Rey could have laughed at how tame it was, how innocent - how contrary to everything she’d ever assumed or believed about him.

 

“Tomorrow, then.”

 

With that, he was bounding down her stairs and, with one last lingering look, getting into the cab. Rey unlocked her door and stepped inside, feeling shell-shocked. BB was lying there on the stairs and stood with a big stretch when he saw her, purring a greeting.

 

She let the door close behind her and slumped against it, casting a plaintive look at the orange cat and groaning, 

  
“Oh BB...I have a  _ bad  _ feeling about this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for the comments and kudos on this fic - I know I'm way behind in responding to people but I promise I'll get better. Life has been crazy and writing is what keeps me sane these days. Thanks for making it SO worth it!!


	4. One Is the Loneliest Number

Rey didn’t mean to let things go the way they did the next day. She really didn’t.

 

It started when Kylo texted her the next day, early, as though he’d been sitting there waiting until the hour was considered decent enough to send a message. 

 

It wasn’t - not for a woman who worked all hours and who he knew damn well had stayed out late the night before on a first date. Grunting, she grabbed blindly for the phone, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. She had to stare at the number for a long minute, puzzled, before she realized that it must be him. She hadn’t programmed his number into her phone the night before, so he wasn’t in her contacts list.

 

_ Good morning. _

 

It was simple enough, so she responded in kind.

 

_ Morning. You’re up early. _

 

His response came almost immediately.

 

_ Sorry, did I wake you? _

 

She was about to tell him that he had, but then decided that he was so bloody serious that teasing over text would probably fly right over his head. Instead, she quickly added him as a contact and then proceeded to respond with a complete and total fib.

 

_ Nope. I was making oatmeal. _

 

The little bubble appeared, indicating that he was typing.

 

_ You a breakfast person? _

 

She smiled slightly and wrote back,

 

_ I’m a food person. Give me ALL the food. _

 

She threw off her covers and got out of bed, socked feet hitting the floor as she decided that just talking about it had actually made her hungry. Oatmeal sounded pretty good right about then, and she was glad that at least she’d be able to turn her lie into a sort-of truth. His reply came as she was padding across her small place to the kitchen.

 

_ Ok then. Where would you like me to take you for dinner tonight? _

 

She froze, her hand hovering in mid-air, clutching the container of oats. Somehow, she’d forgotten that she’d actually agreed to go out with him again so soon. She slowly set the box down and frowned at her phone, biting her lip - was this a bad idea? Wasn’t there customarily a break after the first date where both parties attempted to play it cool before they made plans again?

 

Just as she thought this, her phone vibrated in her hand as another text popped up.

 

_ If you’re still game? _

 

She blew out a breath - he was hesitating now, because she’d taken too long to respond. Rey knew she should have pumped the brakes the night before, but something about the combination of good gin and a cool spring breeze had gotten to her. In the light of day, she felt her face going red as she considered what her friends would say if they knew she had agreed to a second date pretty much immediately with Kylo Ren.

 

Or that she’d even gone out with him on a first date to begin with - Finn would absolutely piss himself.

 

Would he, though? He was the one who had told her that the whole porn thing was just a business, that the people doing it were totally normal - still, that was in the context of her spending a day or two on set. Not  _ dating  _ one of the stars.

 

As she watched her screen, the little text bubble appeared, then disappeared. This happened twice, and she knew she had to respond quickly because he was probably panicking at her continued lack of response. Sighing in resignation, she typed her answer.

 

_ I don’t know, surprise me? _

 

His reply came back instantaneously.

 

_ Pick you up at 7? _

 

She sent back a quick text confirming, then mindlessly put the box of oats back in the cupboard and sank into one of her kitchen chairs, feeling overwhelmed. That was the beginning of the end, really, and it only got worse from there.

 

As the day went on, she second-guessed herself more and more, replaying the date they’d had the night before and subconsciously pulling out anything she could to talk herself out of going to dinner with him. 

 

The way he shredded his bar napkin and continuously drummed his long fingers on the table as though he had some major pent-up agitation, the way he was always either staring too intently at her or refusing to meet her eyes, the way he’d barely smiled all evening in spite of his declaration that he’d apparently enjoyed the date so much he wanted another one immediately -  _ all  _ of it. 

 

He seemed uncomfortable, morose, brooding and - in the end, not very fun. She reasoned with herself that she hadn’t even really meant to go on the first date, but her curiosity had gotten the better of her and she’d gone just to see what the hell his deal was - and had ended up walking right into a sort of ambush date.

 

And that was all  _ besides  _ the issue of what he did for a living. She could say she didn’t care about it all she wanted, but that was because she barely knew him. What if she kept seeing him and actually started to care? Rey knew that her objectivity when it came to the whole thing would fly right out the window, and who could blame her? What woman in her right mind would be okay with sitting somewhere, knowing that at that very moment, the man she was involved with was somewhere else having sex with another woman? Job or not, real or not, it would take a very unique person.

 

He’d said the night before that he understood if his job was a deal breaker, and she was realizing now that it probably was. Now, without him standing in front of her, gazing at her with those eyes that burned like hot coals, she could admit that.

 

So later that afternoon, feeling horribly guilty and cursing under her breath about what a massive ass she was about to make out of herself, she pulled out her phone and sent him a perfunctory text.

 

_ Hey - gonna have to cancel plans for tonight. Something came up, sorry! _

 

She set the phone on the table in front of her and resumed picking at her sandwich. She’d been sitting there filling out applications for Master’s programs while she ate her lunch - it was helping to distract her from her sudden disaster of a personal life, but the turkey was going down her throat like sandpaper. For once in her life, she wasn’t hungry at all.

 

He didn’t reply for close to an hour, and she felt strange as she considered that he was probably working. She tried not to picture it, but was only semi-successful. Finally, her phone buzzed and she cringed inside as she picked it up and forced herself to look.

 

_ Is everything ok? _

 

She blew out a breath and shook her head at herself, something like shame curling in her gut, as she lied,

 

_ Yeah, no worries. It’s nothing serious. _

 

She hit send before she could think better of her wording, and then wanted to bash her forehead on the table. Great, so she’d basically just told him she was cancelling their date over something trivial.

 

He must have thought the same thing, because it took him nearly fifteen minutes to send a response - but the little text bubble kept appearing and disappearing the entire time, driving Rey’s blood pressure through the roof. Finally, it came through - but it didn’t make Rey feel any better.

 

_ Do you want a rain check? Or is this your way of telling me you’ve changed your mind about seeing me again? _

 

She let her eyes slide closed -  _ shit _ . He obviously wasn’t going to let her just skate by with a cancellation and then ghosting him, the way everyone else let these things happen. She might have known - suddenly, she remembered with stinging clarity how blunt he could be when he wasn’t trying to impress someone. Holding her breath, she typed back, knowing every single thing she was telling him sounded completely and utterly fake but unable to think of another way to put it.

 

_ Look, it’s not you. It’s just that I’m really busy and after thinking about it more, I’m not sure it’s the right time for me to start something. I hope you understand? _

 

She hit send and felt sick, but he didn’t respond. No text bubble, nothing. She waited, her lunch and her applications all but forgotten - but he never texted back. A couple hours later, as she miserably packed up her things and slid her sandwich into a takeaway box, she decided she couldn’t bear to leave it at that and wrote him one last message.

 

_ I really did have a nice time last night, Kylo. _

 

It wasn’t until after she’d sent it that she remembered he’d told her that wasn’t his real name. Her heart sank - even the very last word she’d written to him was disingenuous.

 

~~

 

“Ah,  _ fuck _ _!”_ Kylo cursed as he pulled his dick out of Bazine again, stroking it a couple of times.

 

“What’s the problem?” she asked, propping herself up on her elbows.

 

“I keep losing it,” he said through gritted teeth - his shaft was beginning to chafe. They’d been at it for a couple of hours, but the last half hour had been a series of awkward retakes and pauses as Kylo struggled to maintain his erection.

 

“Wonderful,” Hux muttered, his eyes cold as they watched Kylo attempt to get it up again, “Because it’s not as though we have deadlines to make…”

 

“You want to strip down and see what it’s like on this side of the camera?” Kylo snarled, face red and sweaty. Hux’s lip curled in disgust, but Bazine was eyeing Kylo searchingly as she ventured, 

 

“You usually don’t have an issue with stamina. Something on your mind?”

 

“No,” he lied, ignoring the myriad small sighs from the crew as he worked to get hard again, “Just not into it today, I guess.”

 

Shrugging slightly, she sat up and caught his wrist, pulling his hand away from his half-limp dick.

 

“Let me help.”

 

He watched as she got into position, her brown eyes on his as she expertly tugged at his balls and ran her tongue up the underside of his member. It struck him anew, for the millionth time, how absurd this all was. Here was a gorgeous woman getting ready to blow him, and it felt like she might as well be about to clip his toenails. She didn’t give a shit about him, nor he about her - she just wanted to get the work day over with so they all could leave.

 

So that he could go home to his empty condo with nothing to look forward to anymore. He swallowed and tried like hell to focus. Thoughts like that weren’t going to help him right now.

 

Bazine wrapped her full lips around his shaft, pumping him with her hand and he closed his eyes and tilted his head back, trying to lose himself in the sensation. Squeezing all other thought from his head, he tried to hone in on what she was doing - her lips, her tongue, her throat and her hand all working in expert tandem. Slowly, he felt the urge begin to build again and exhaled deeply as the blood flowed back to his cock.

 

Bazine hummed in satisfaction at the feel of him growing fully hard again under her ministrations, and he let out a soft groan at the feel of its reverberation around him. He vaguely heard Hux hurriedly tell the crew to start shooting, calling over to he and Bazine,

 

“That’s it, keep going. We’ll just roll with this. Forget the script, make it look good.”

 

Once his mind was blank and he felt reasonably confident that he’d be able to finish the scene, he pulled Bazine gently by the hair until she came off of him. Her mouth was wet and she raised her eyes to meet his, her mouth twisted in a sort of smug smile.

 

Narrowing his eyes at her, he let out a small snarl and grasped her waist. With a grunt, he flipped her over on the bed. He was about to enter her from behind when he noticed she was bone dry, having lost her momentum as well. He thought briefly about calling for lube, but then decided he didn’t want to risk the delay in action.

 

If Rey had just proven Snoke right - if this job really was the only fucking thing he had in his life at the moment - then he was going to make damn sure he was the best in the business. Dropping to one knee behind Bazine, he placed his hands on her ass as he ran his tongue from clit to asshole. She moaned, a real moan, and it fueled his determination. He went to work with gusto, with a chip on his shoulder and something to prove, working her with his mouth and then fingers until she came against his face, her keen echoing off the walls of the set.

 

“Oh, shit,” she whispered, panting as she looked over her shoulder at him with wide eyes, and he knew then that there had been nothing fake about her climax. It gave him a surge of primal confidence that he desperately needed.

 

He stood up, ready to finish the damn scene already - and looked down to find his cock limp again.

 

“ _ God-fucking-dammit _ !” he raged, wishing he had something to throw or break.

 

“Shit. Cut!” Hux yelled.

 

Bazine rolled out from under him, looking pissed but not saying anything because she’d worked with him before and knew how volatile he could be. She saw he was already incensed, and wisely kept her trap shut. Besides, she’d at least gotten something out of it.

 

Hux, on the other hand, wasn’t as diplomatic. Stalking over, he practically shrieked, “We cannot  _ afford  _ a delay on this production! I’m not going to be the one who calls Snoke and tells him that  _ you’re _ stalling production again! _ ” _

 

Kylo barged past Hux without bothering to respond, making sure his shoulder slammed into him on the way past.

 

“I’m done for today,” he barked, tuning out the sounds of hushed chatter rising up behind him. 

 

Let them talk. He could care less.

 

He stormed back to his dressing room and, once behind the closed door to his personal space, he turned and slammed his fist into the wall hard, three times. It was only the crack of the plaster that made him stop. He knew he had a temper - had gone to therapy for years when he was young, trying to learn coping strategies - and he didn’t want to backslide because of…

 

Heaving a breath, he looked up at the ceiling and huffed bitterly.

 

Rey wasn’t interested in him. Or maybe she was, but had decided that his job was a dealbreaker after all.

 

He couldn’t believe how fucking disappointed he was. 

 

He’d bought the ticket for that play on an insane whim, an afterthought - only now, looking back, he realized it hadn’t been an afterthought at all. He’d been planning it,  _ wanting  _ to ask her out, in the back of his mind from the second he’d laid eyes on her. He’d finally gotten the gumption to put himself out there, twice now, and she was blowing him off.

 

“Fuck,” he muttered out loud.

 

He decided against his better judgment - and his sense of pride - that he should probably check one last time to see if there was any chance at all that she’d changed her mind again. When he looked at the screen, it took him a full two minutes of staring at the little red notification bubble to realize that there was a text message waiting for him. His brain finally caught up, and he practically dropped the phone on the floor, his sausage-fingers clumsy in his haste to open the app.

 

_ I really did have a nice time last night, Kylo. _

 

His heart, which had leapt into his throat at the sight of an unread text message, now plummeted to about ankle level as he clenched his jaw against the waves of melancholy that crashed over him anew. Everything about that text was final - like a door slamming in his face.

 

Beyond the disappointment, there was a kind of obstinate disbelief. 

 

He couldn’t  _ believe  _ this was how it was going to end. Before it had even really started, but too late for him to walk away unscathed.

 

Their date the night before had been more than Kylo would have ever dared to expect, more than he had hoped it would be. He’d expected good conversation and a chance to get to know one another a bit better, but ultimately he had prepared himself for the idea that their first date would also be their only date. He told himself he was fine with that, he just wanted the experience of spending a couple of hours with her outside of her workplace. 

 

He even thought, naively, that they might end up being friends if nothing else. Sharing the common interests of drama and literature, maybe they could make it a regular thing to attend plays every month or so.

 

It had ended up turning into so much more than  _ any  _ of that for him. He should have seen it coming. Maybe he had, and had just ignored the danger because he’d wanted to know her so badly.

 

She had told him a bit about herself and her background - that she never knew her parents, that she was basically fending for herself now, chasing a dream of grad school with everything she had. He had looked into her eyes over the single candle that had been flickering on their table at that bar, her hands clutched around her glass, thumb tracing drops of condensation as they ran down the sides, and he’d suddenly been struck with the strangest feeling - as though he was staring into his own soul.

 

It was like something inside him slid into place after having been dislodged for years, and it had shaken him to his core. Even more so because he couldn’t even explain it to himself in a way that didn’t sound completely insane.

 

He thought she’d felt it too. He’d thought it by the way she held his gaze with understanding glowing in her eyes as he told her about his own dreams. He’d thought maybe she was tired of being lonely too, and maybe they could build something real off of that. Finally, something  _ real _ .

 

He had been very wrong, apparently.

 

It took all of the meager self-control he had not to hurl his phone against the wall.

  
  


~~

 

Rey felt  _ awful _ .

 

She never got anything back from Kylo, and frankly, she didn’t expect to ever see him again. She couldn’t imagine he’d still be coming into Maz’s after the way they’d left things, and she certainly wasn’t ever going to step foot inside that studio again after everything that had happened.

 

The strange thing was, she thought as she idly stroked BB’s head and wallowed on her couch,  _ nothing  _ had actually happened. Not really. They’d gone on one date and had decided not to go out again - well, she’d decided. He had seemed miffed about it, but she guessed that was only fair. He’d probably already made reservations and everything.

 

“Oh, God, BB, I’m such a jerk,” she groaned, dropping her head back against the sofa cushions, “I hope he didn’t buy flowers or anything.”

 

The cat meowed sympathetically and Rey looked up in time to see the credits rolling on the last episode of the “Worst Cooks in America” marathon she’d been watching all evening. It was about eight o’clock now, and Rey couldn’t help letting her mind wander to the fact that if she hadn’t cancelled, she’d be out with Kylo at some nice restaurant somewhere. It made her glance pathetically at her half-empty bowl of spaghetti-o’s and sigh.

 

It was for the best, it really was. He’d get over it - probably quickly. After all, it wasn’t as though Rey was some kind of heartbreaker. She was just a regular girl, and there were plenty of those out there for him to choose from if he wanted someone to take to the theatre and fancy restaurants. She’d have to be content with marching onward toward her goals - and with her canned pasta for dinner.

 

“It’s for the best,” she murmured to her empty apartment.

 

Still, she couldn’t quite purge the memory of his warm, soft lips on her cheek the night before.

  
  


~~

  
  


Kylo sighed and grabbed up his remote as the last of the “Worst Cooks in America” marathon ended. Flipping around, he finally settled on some rugby game they were re-airing and took a long swig from his beer. Just as he was about to bite the bullet and pull out his trusty old takeout menus, his cell phone rang. 

 

He hated himself for the hopeful little leap his heart made as he glanced at it, and then he promptly deflated at the name on the screen.

 

It was his mother. Fucking spectacular. Figuring he might as well answer since he had nothing else going on, he picked up. If he didn’t do it now, she’d just keep on trying to get that obligatory quarterly call in, blowing up his phone every night until he finally caved.

 

“Yeah, mom.”

 

“Ben? My God, you actually picked up. I should have had smelling salts ready…”

 

Rolling his eyes, he said, “What do you need, mother?”

 

“I can’t just call to chat with my own son?”

 

He grimaced and leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and scrubbing his face with one hand as he mumbled, “I’d prefer it not be tonight, okay?”

 

Leia was silent for a moment before asking in that husky voice of hers that meant she was concerned, “What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing,” he answered quickly, then before she could say more, he lied, “That’s the doorbell, mom. I can’t really talk right now, anyway.”

 

“Company?”

 

The way she said it was so hopeful that it only made him feel more like a piece of shit than he did before she called. Especially considering recent events. Frowning, he replied snappishly, 

 

“Pizza.”

 

“Oh,” she said, clearly deflated, “Listen, can we grab lunch this week? I’d like to…”

 

“This week is bad. I work every day.”

 

There was an extended pause before she asked, her voice now hardened, “Right. How’s  _ that  _ going?”

 

“I’m hanging up now,” he said coldly, “Talk to you later.”

 

“Sure you will.”

 

The line went dead and he dropped the phone onto the sofa next to him, staring numbly at the TV. It wasn’t necessarily that he didn’t want to speak to her - he didn’t hate his mother - he just didn’t have anything to say to her, nor she to him. Any talk of either of their careers would just start an argument, and since he hadn’t seen her in two years, there just wasn’t anything left to say.

 

He eyed the drawer where he kept the menus, thinking sullenly about the steak house he’d planned to take her to for dinner. It was one of his favorites and, if he was completely honest with himself, he’d been looking forward to going there with someone instead of by himself. He was getting tired of eating his fifty-five dollar t-bone at the bar instead of at an actual dining table, complete with the white tablecloth and the waiter.

 

He’d had it all planned in his head, had scarcely thought of anything else from the moment he left her at her doorstep the night before. He’d planned on ordering a bottle of wine to share, and then he’d list his favorites to her and make his recommendations from the menu. Whether she wanted to go with any of those would have been up to her, but he relished the simple privilege of sharing them with someone. 

 

No, not someone, he amended bitterly in his head.

 

_ Her. _ No one else had ever inspired this urge in him.  _ Something  _ about that girl had somehow managed to touch him deeply, made him yearn for things he was fine without until he’d met her.  And now it was nothing but a pipe dream, as unattainable as most of the other goals he’d set for himself.

 

Sighing resignedly, he decided against food and went to get his whiskey.

 

At least he could get drunk and pass out - spending the night in blissful, booze-induced oblivion was preferable to torturing himself with his thoughts all night long. Even if it would only be temporary, he’d take the company of the bottle to none at all. 

 

Beggars can’t be choosers.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, dear. These two.
> 
> Thanks for reading and supporting this story!


	5. Propositioned

“Rey!”

Rey jumped as Finn waved a hand in front of her face, startled.

“What?”

Finn was giving her a funny look as he asked, or more likely repeated, “I’m getting another beer, you need one?”

“Oh,” Rey murmured, looking down at the nearly full can she was holding, “Sorry, I didn’t hear you the first time. No, I’m good.”

He turned and got his drink from the fridge, then came back and plopped into his overstuffed chair. Grabbing up the remote, he paused the movie before turning to her and demanding,

“Okay, spill it.”

She blinked at him and asked, “Spill what?”

“Obviously something’s bothering you. You aren’t even watching this, and you’re the one that kept saying you wanted to see it." 

Rey shook her head and tried to deflect, objecting, “I did! I do, and I am watching it. Nothing is bothering me, I’m just tired.” 

“Sure,” Finn drawled, “So, what happened in that last scene? With the cop?”

She couldn’t do much more than stare at him like a deer in headlights while he pointedly raised an eyebrow. Finally, she gave up. Sighing, she leaned forward and set her beer down on the coffee table. 

“Sorry, I know I haven’t been great company so far tonight. I’ll snap out of it.” 

“Well, I don’t want you to just ‘snap out of it’ if there’s something bothering you. Which there is - I know you. Come on, talk to me.” 

His expression morphed from smug to concern as he looked at her, and she felt a surge of familiar warmth for her old friend. It felt like university all over again, where she’d met him in her first year at Fordham and had consistently leaned on him for emotional support as she worked her arse off to hang onto the Presidential scholarship that was pretty much her lifeline. Every time she fretted about failing a class and having to go back to England, she could always count on him to remind her that she’d never failed at anything - none too gently, sometimes.

He was still there for her, apparently, and she gave him a wan smile.

“Okay, fine. There is something on my mind."

He leaned forward, tapping his fingers against his can of Coors as he gently prodded, “Yeah?”

She struggled for a moment with what to say - she was having a problem wrapping her own mind around it, much less talking about it with someone. Finally, she began, 

“I went out with someone a few weeks ago. He wanted a second date, and I agreed at first but then changed my mind.” 

She paused, and after a few seconds, Finn frowned at her.

“And? That can’t be the end of the story.”

“Well, technically it is. But...I don’t know, I can’t get him out of my head.”

Finn’s eyebrows shot up and he asked, “You mean you regret not going out with him again?”

“Not exactly,” Rey replied hesitantly, “It’s hard to explain, but basically I just can’t stop feeling bad about it. I didn’t handle it very well.”

“What do you mean? You didn’t stand him up or something, did you?”

Rey felt her face flush at how close that was to the truth, a fresh wave of guilt hitting her as she answered miserably, “Practically. At the end of the first date, he asked me to have dinner with him the next night. At the time…”

“The next night? Wow,” Finn huffed, taking a sip of his beer, “He must really have been into you.”

Shrugging, embarrassed and not liking that train of thought, she muttered, “I don’t know, maybe. But anyway, I said yes on a whim, and then the next day I talked myself out of it. I texted him to cancel it, made up some excuse. He got the hint, and we never spoke again..”

She stopped again, and Finn shrugged, grabbing a chip and crunching on it thoughtfully.

“That doesn’t sound so bad. I mean, I’m sure he was disappointed, but it happens. You’re allowed to change your mind, Rey. I’m sure he’s forgotten all about it.”

She pressed her lips together, then mumbled, “Yeah, I guess so.”

They were quiet for a few seconds before Finn asked, “So, why’s it bothering you so much? You’re the one that didn’t want to go out with him again…”

“I know,” she interrupted, flustered, “And I’m not sure. I guess because he clearly knew I was lying to him, and I feel like a coward. I should have gone on that second date and told him to his face why I didn’t want to see him again.”

“Why didn’t you? Want to see him again, I mean?”

She froze. She couldn’t tell Finn the truth. He worked with Kylo Ren on a regular basis, and he didn’t think very highly of him even _without_ the job profile. She just didn’t feel up to admitting that she’d gone on a date with him. She didn’t want to hear the horrified sputtering that was sure to follow from Finn. She’d smacked her own forehead enough over the whole situation, she didn’t need him to do it for her.

Shrugging, she picked at the fringe of the throw pillow she had on her lap as she hedged, “A lot of reasons. He was really serious about everything. Not much fun, and his job was sort of - involved. I don’t know. A lot of reasons.”

Finn sighed, then leaned back in his chair and told her earnestly, “I think you should let it go, Rey. You didn’t technically do anything wrong, and like I said - the guy himself has probably long moved on. Could you have been a little more honest? Sure, but you’re never gonna see this guy again, anyway. Don’t let it eat you up.”

She let his words sink in, then nodded, “Okay. You’re right.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m good. Thanks for listening,” she smiled sincerely, and he picked the remote back up.

“Good. Now, did you want to start the movie over, since you weren’t paying any attention to it before? We’re only about twenty minutes in. I don’t care.”

Laughing quietly, she agreed, “Sure. Thanks.”

As the opening scenes of the movie played out again, Rey struggled to remain present and not let her mind wander again. She knew Finn’s advice made sense - it was the same advice she’d been giving herself for weeks - but somehow, it didn’t really make her feel any better.

She closed her eyes and sighed at the fact that Finn was most probably right - that Kylo probably had forgotten all about her.  She didn’t know why this bothered her so much, but it did.

It still did.

 

~~

 

She stared down at the receipt that was stapled onto the takeaway bag.

It had to be him. It _had_ to be.

A large order of gumbo, to be delivered to an address a mere three blocks away. To a man named Ben Solo.

_“That’s actually not my name. It’s Ben, but no one calls me that anymore.”_

“Are you still here?” Maz quipped, startling her as she came around the corner with two orders of fish and chips, “You were off the clock ten minutes ago. Get out from behind my bar.”

“I just, uh - this takeaway order. Someone called it in?”

“That’s generally how takeout orders work, yes,” Maz drawled, setting a condiment caddy down in front of the two men who were now digging into their dinners, “Why?”

“Is he picking it up?” she asked, unsure whether she was excited or panicking, both options disconcerting.

“No, he asked for delivery. I’m sending Geno out with it in a couple minutes.”

Rey didn’t know why she was so sure it was Kylo, but she was. She felt positive of it. On impulse and not taking the time to think it through, she blurted,

“I’ll take it.”

Maz eyed her and said, “You’re off the clock. Geno wanted a smoke anyway…”

“No, really, I’ll take it,” she protested, snatching up the bag and practically running to the door with it, “It’s on my way!”

Maz frowned at her as she scurried past, hands on her hips as she called, “No, it’s not! You live in the other direction!”

Rey was out the door before she could say anything else, her heart in her throat as she considered for the first time that maybe it if _was_ him, this really wasn’t a good idea.

He probably didn’t want to see her. He just didn’t want to have to give up Maz’s gumbo on account of her, so delivery was the only option. He would never assume that she would be the one delivering it...would he?

After all, how hard was it to find another place to get gumbo in LA, if he wanted it so badly?

Shaking her head and refusing to lose herself in speculation, she quickly traversed the three blocks to her destination - which turned out to be an incredibly posh-looking highrise that probably cost a fortune to live in.

Maybe this wasn’t his order after all - did porn stars make _that_ much money? Swallowing, she entered the lobby and was stopped by the uniformed doorman before she could get to the elevator.

“Who are you visiting, miss?”

She swallowed again, hard, and rasped, “I’m delivering food to Unit 5B. From Maz’s Place.”

The door man nodded and picked up the phone, quickly confirming the order with the tenant and then directing her to the elevator.

Once on the fifth floor, she found the right door pretty quickly - there were apparently only two units on each floor.  She raised her hand to knock, but the door to 5B opened before she could. Rey’s stomach dropped as his large frame filled the doorway, cash clutched in his hand. All her courage suddenly fled as she gaped up at him and he froze in place when he realized it was her, looking equally stunned.

They did nothing but stare at each other for a long, agonizing few seconds, until finally Rey couldn’t stand the tension anymore.

“Kylo.”

 _Ben,_ her mind corrected her, but she wasn’t sure that’s what he wanted to be called. Even as she held out the bag with that very name on it and said lamely,

“I, um - brought your gumbo.”

He didn’t even spare it a glance, his eyes glued to her face as he asked, “You make the deliveries now, too? I wouldn’t have...”

He trailed off, clearly cutting off his declaration that he wouldn’t have called the order in at all if he’d known she would be the one delivering it. Dejected, she shrugged self-consciously and murmured,

“Not usually.”

He nodded slightly, then reached out for his soup. She handed it to him, finding it hard to meet his gaze as their fingers brushed in the exchange, and struggled to find something - _anything_ \- to say to him that wouldn’t sound trite and meaningless. Suddenly, her window of opportunity was closing as he muttered a thank you and went to shut the door.

“Kylo, wait,” she said, reaching out to stop the door with her hand before deciding that was extremely presumptuous and pulling it back to fiddle with the drawstrings on her jacket.

He stood stiffly, his brow furrowed as he regarded her expectantly, looking as though he wanted nothing more than to slam the door in her face and retreat into the safety of his flat.  Rey cleared her throat and decided that this was fate or something, giving her a chance to make amends, and began,

“I don’t ever do the deliveries, actually. I only did this one because I thought maybe it was going to you, and...listen, I just wanted to tell you that I’m really sorry about how things ended.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said a bit tersely before drawing a breath and softening his tone, “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

“Yes, I do,” she protested gently, “I acted childish. I just sort of lost my nerve, and I could have handled the whole thing better.”

He was glowering down at her for a minute before shrugging one shoulder and responding, “I said it’s fine. Forget it.”

She sensed that he was about to close the door again and panicked, blurting out, “Can I come in?" 

Now he was looking at her like she’d gone completely mental, and she felt her face going bright pink under his scrutiny. What the _hell_ was she doing?

“What?” he said flatly.

Exasperated beyond belief and growing more horribly embarrassed by the second, she shook her head and explained, “I just - I feel like it doesn’t have to end like this. I told you, I really did enjoy talking to you, and I just....”

She looked down at the floor as she trailed off, noticing that he was barefoot and thinking idly about how gargantuan his feet were. After a long, tense silence, he drew a breath and asked quietly,

“Why did you really cancel on me?"

Looking up into his dark brown eyes, as intense as she remembered, Rey felt the plea was unnecessary - she didn’t think she would have been able to lie to his face, anyway.

“I just...I talked myself out of it. I just kept thinking of all the reasons why it would be a terrible idea…”

“Was it a long list?” he demanded, looking slightly affronted.

She paused for a moment before answering, “Not really. If I’m honest, there was only one thing that was a real issue.”

Rey felt her heart twinge as he physically deflated, his expression shuttering and his lips working as though he was chewing on his response before he guessed resignedly,

“My job.”

It was a statement, not a question. Rey nodded miserably, even though he didn’t seem like he needed the confirmation. After a few seconds, he said,

“Look, I get it. I expected it, actually, it’s just that I started to think that maybe…” he paused, sighed, then asked, “What do you want me to say?”

The truth was, she didn’t really know. She only knew that the disillusionment in his expression just then, the defeat in his posture, wasn’t something she could make herself walk away from easily. Clearing her throat, she decided that the worst that could happen was him slamming the door in her face.

“Maybe...we could be friends?”

She was very careful not to use the word ‘just’ in that sentence, because friendship - to Rey, at least - was not a consolation prize. Not with how seldom she made true friends. He stared at her, his eyes searching her features warily for a long moment.

“Friends?” he repeated, as though the word was foreign to him.

“Sure,” she encouraged, still not really understanding her own motivations but ‘going with her gut’, as Finn would always say, “Why not?”

His intensity was getting to her again, and she was starting to remember why that had been on her ‘list’ of reasons to stay away from him in the first place. That gaze of his - it made her feel like he was seeing right through her, into her thoughts and feelings, and it was disconcerting.

Shrugging lightly again to dispel some of that, she asked, “Look, if you don’t want that, it’s fine…”

“You don’t owe me anything, Rey. We went on one date. It was nothing.”

For some reason, those words stung a little, but she rallied and lifted her chin, unwilling to back down.

“Then it doesn’t have to be awkward if we just hang out sometimes, does it?”

He held her gaze as he seemed to think long and hard about what she was proposing, his jaw working. Rey knew she was on thin ice. If she pushed too hard, he was liable to think she was doing this out of pity, and a man like him wouldn’t take very kindly to that notion.

After a stretch of silence that lasted so long it had Rey squirming under his scrutiny, he miraculously seemed to acquiesce to her idea and stepped back in unspoken  invitation. The relief that flooded Rey was profound, and she decided she’d wait until later to analyze exactly why she’d been so determined to get this man to accept her offer and allow her a peek into his life.

For the moment, she was too busy gawking at his flat. She barely registered him shutting the door behind them and coming to stand awkwardly beside her.

“Holy hell,” she breathed, “This place is huge! _”_

He shifted uncomfortably beside her and replied, “Yeah, I guess it is.”

“Is it just you, or do you live with someone?”

He cleared his throat and responded gruffly, “Just me.”

“You have all this space to yourself?” she asked, awestruck and looking over her shoulder to find him staring at her again, “I could probably fit my entire flat in your kitchen.”

There was an uneasy silence, then he cleared his throat and asked, “You...don’t have to go back to work?”

“No, I was on my way home. I worked the lunch shift today.”

He hummed in response, then mumbled something about putting the soup in the fridge.

“You’re not going to eat it?” Rey asked, frowning.

He paused, and instead of answering her question, he asked, “Have you eaten?”

She shook her head, and he huffed, “Then no, I’m not going to sit here and eat in front of you. I didn’t get enough for both of us.”

“Well, I won’t hold that against you,” she quipped, “Usually the delivery person doesn’t insist on coming in.”

He actually gave her a small smile - just a quick upturn of his mouth - and then walked away from her toward the kitchen area. His whole living space was basically one huge room, and Rey didn’t know whether to simply stand where she was or if she was meant to follow him.

She supposed she couldn’t blame _him_ for any awkwardness this time. After all, she had just come barging into his flat without any warning or plan. Although something inside was telling her that she was definitely doing the right thing. Not only to assuage her own remorse for how she’d treated him weeks ago, but also because…

She looked around again, her eyes roaming over his personal space - the size of which, coupled with the fact that he didn’t have a flatmate and his discomfort while interacting with people in general, amplified her earlier suspicion that he was a rather lonely person.

His place was clean, almost immaculate. Industrial-style, very chic and modern. She suspected he’d had a decorator do it for him - but there were little things here and there that spoke of a more personal touch. An large cherry wood bookcase with dozens upon dozens of well-worn books gracing the shelves. Some artwork that didn’t fit with the overall theme, and his sofas were completely mismatched with the sleek lounge chairs in the opposite corner. Beaten up and lived-in, they were soft brown leather that looked like they may be the most comfortable things on the planet. 

There was a bar at the far end of the place, near the floor-to-ceiling windows - nothing fancy, just basics, but it was pretty cool that it was there at all. Rey found herself wandering over to it and standing on her tiptoes to peek behind at the setup.

“Don’t tell me you want to bartend on your night off?”

She turned, surprised to find that he had crept up behind her and now stood about ten feet behind her, hands shoved in the pockets of his sweat pants. She hadn’t heard his bare feet on the gray shag rug as he’d padded over. It suddenly struck her that she really had barged in on him - between the bare feet, the gray sweat pants and the black t-shirt, he looked like he’d been about ready for bed.

Smiling a little, she asked dryly, “I don’t know. Feel like reenacting the day we met, just for a giggle?”

He blinked, and after a moment of reflection Rey wanted to punch herself in the face. She’d been thinking about the first time he’d come into Maz’s, but the first time they’d actually met was earlier that day - on set. She’d watched him shag some blonde for a couple hours, and that was NOT the reenactment she had in mind.

Hoping he hadn’t gone there in his own head, she hastily went on, “Listen, I’m sorry if this is totally weird of me, this whole thing. I know I’m probably ruining your plans for the night.”

He frowned slightly and repeated, “My plans? Look at me - I clearly didn’t have any.”

“Well, take it from me,” she said wryly as she picked up a bottle of something she’d never heard of and studied it, “Relaxing is a plan. I actually have to plan to do nothing, because if I don’t, I’ll never do nothing and will always be doing _something_ instead. And then I’d go insane.”

He eyed her and asked, “Are you sure that ship hasn’t already sailed?”

She turned her head to look at him and narrowed her eyes.

“Did you just make a _joke_?”

His cheeks turned pink and he hunched his shoulders as he murmured, “Obviously it wasn’t a very good one if you have to ask.”

She watched him for a second, his flush tugging at her heartstrings, and then laughed. She got another small smirk out of him, and then he nodded at the bottle in her hand and asked,

“Did you want to open that?”

“What is it?”

“It’s wine.”

Bemused, she shot him a look and retorted, “You must not think very highly of me as a bartender if you think I can’t even identify a bottle of red wine.”

He huffed out something that sounded suspiciously like a laugh and replied, “I mean, it’s my favorite. A shiraz from Argentina. When I drink wine, which isn’t often, that’s what I drink.”

She studied the bottle for a second, then set it down. 

“I shouldn’t drink wine on an empty stomach. It never ends well.”

He stilled as he inclined his head, studying her cautiously, and asked, “Well...you said you hadn’t eaten. Are you hungry?”

She shrugged, “I could always eat. But I feel bad that you’re going to have to reheat that gumbo - I really don’t mind if you want to go ahead and eat it. I should go, anyway. I really was on my way home, and…”

“No,” he interrupted, giving his head a little shake and clumsily went on, “You can stay, I don’t mind. Do you...want to hang out and just watch something, as long as you’re here? We could order pizza, if you want...or…I don’t know, whatever you want.”

He stopped, his hand going to rub the back of his neck as he let out a self-deprecating grunt. Rey sensed that he was drowning in embarrassment over his social ineptitude and immediately threw him a life preserver. After all, he couldn’t be expected to know how to behave here - it was a bizarre situation, and she’d put him in the middle of it.

“I hate to tell you this, but I like pineapple on my pizza.”

His shoulders relaxed and his brow furrowed as he replied, a hint of gratitude in his tone, “Okay. But if you want pineapple, we’re going full Hawaiian.

“Sure. Sounds spectacular. And in that case, yes - I’d love a glass of your wine.”

He nodded and held his hand out for the bottle, but she was already ducking behind the bar to grab up a a corkscrew.

“Allow me. You order the pizza.”

He nodded and strode off to find his phone. As he went, Rey could have sworn she heard him utter a relieved exhale.

This was going to work, she thought excitedly. She’d met someone who seemed intelligent and who shared her interests that she could talk to from time to time and actually _understand_ , and she’d miraculously managed to remove the obstacle that had been in the way of that.

After all, she didn’t have to give a shit about what he did for a living if she was his friend. Rey felt great about it - she knew there had been a reason that her conscience wouldn’t let her forget Kylo Ren.

Because they were meant to be friends.

 

~~

 

He didn’t want to be her friend. He knew damn well that’s not really what he wanted.

However, there was no way he was going to refuse the offer. He glanced over at her, studying her as she sipped her wine and absently rubbed her full stomach - at least, he assumed it was full. She had efficiently devoured her entire half of the large pizza he’d ordered, while he’d eaten his half and tried not to look too enraptured as he watched her stuff her face.

He had wisely let her pay for half of it, so that she wouldn’t think he was trying to push this odd, unbelievable second-chance to get to know her better in a direction she had clearly said she wasn’t interested in taking.

They sat and watched a few old episodes of The Wonder Years, chatting here and there about various things. Nothing too personal - he kept it as light as he could. He didn’t know how to talk to people very well, and so he let her take the lead.

She mentioned, as he watched her getting ready to leave with his hands clenched tightly in his pockets, that there was a company coming to town next month that was performing Jean Anhouil’s _Antigone_ , and she’d like to treat him.

He flushed beet red, and he couldn’t tell whether it was from embarrassment or pleasure.

“No, you don’t have to treat. I’d love to go, but we can…”

“I am buying your ticket, so if you want to come you’ll just have to accept it,” she cut him off with a twinkle in her eye, “You treated last time.”

“Yeah, but that was...different.”

An awkward silence ensued, and Kylo could have kicked himself. He could never just say the right thing, which was why he usually just opted to say nothing. He was a far better writer than he was a conversationalist.

Rey seemed to sense his discomfort and pulled her phone out of her pocket, “Hey, that reminds me - I have to add you to my contacts list.”

“Oh,” he said stupidly, “That’d be good, yeah.”

“The question is, what do I put you under? Kylo...or, didn’t you say your real name was Ben?”

His insides clenched to hear his birth name come out of her mouth. She was watching him curiously, and he knew he was swallowing convulsively. He opened his mouth to tell her to use the name he’d chosen, that ‘Ben’ didn’t really exist anymore to practically anybody - only that’s not what came out.

“You can call me Ben.”

Her smile spread across her face and she typed into her phone, which, he noticed, had a cracked screen.

“Okay, then. Ben.”

She bid him goodnight and promised to text him later in the week, then turned to face him one last time before heading to the elevator.

“Hey - thanks.”

“For what?” he asked softly.

She shrugged and replied, “For not being gross about this. Most men - I don’t know, it’s that ‘friendzone’ thing. Most of them would feel insulted at the whole ‘let’s be friends’ thing, but I don’t really make friends easily and it means something to me. I guess...I’m just really glad you’re okay with being my friend.”

His heart felt like it was shriveling up a little in guilt because he knew that deep down he was settling for her friendship, but his smile was genuine as he replied, “Rey, I don’t make friends easily either, and I like talking to you. Please don’t thank me when it’s me that should be thanking _you_. I’m honestly glad you decided to bring me my gumbo and put yourself out there.”

She laughed and said, “Yeah, well that’s another bonus for you - you don’t have to avoid Maz’s anymore. You can have your gumbo fresh.”

Raising a brow, he quipped, “Well, that’s the main reason I’m going along with this, actually. I missed that gumbo more than I miss most of my dead relatives.”

She rolled her eyes and grinned, then bid him goodnight and in a flash, with one last wave before getting on the elevator, she was gone.

A bit shell-shocked, he stepped back and closed his front door, then leaned his forehead on it and whispered, “Fuck.”

He wouldn’t be an asshole, or - how had she put it? Gross? He wanted her in his life. The context didn’t matter, he’d take what he could get.

But as he inhaled deeply, chasing the fading scent of her perfume that lingered in his place, he knew that he was setting himself up for a bad fall. He vowed then and there that no matter what he secretly wanted, he would let her call the shots and she would never know. No matter what it took, no matter what it ended up costing him.

Anything to keep her in his orbit.

 

~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the support on this story, everyone. I am so grateful for every single comment, and I get behind but I DO plan on answering each and every one when I can.
> 
> Starting next chapter, we will start learning more about Ben's background as he opens up to his new friend, Rey. So stay tuned!


	6. Perspective

“So, do you remember the other day? That guy I mentioned?”

Finn licked the drip of ice cream that was rolling down his wrist, the bar he’d bought from the ice cream truck with all the eagerness of a child melting in the LA heat quicker than he could eat it, and replied, “No? Oh, wait, yeah - the guy you dumped?”

“I didn’t dump him,” she protested irritably, “I told you, we only went on one date!”

“Mm-hm,” he hummed patronizingly, “What about him?”

She bit her lip, staring at her feet as they navigated their way through the early-evening crowd to the restaurant. It was a big night - Finn was finally introducing Rey to his almost-girlfriend, Rose. He still wouldn’t use the title, but Rey thought it was more about nerves than lack of desire. 

He was so overly-cautious about everything, she wasn’t surprised. Which is why she was starting to wonder if bringing the Ben thing up to him was a good idea.

“Rey, what?”

“I went to his place,” she blurted out, knowing the reaction she was about to get and dreading it, “To talk to him.”

He stopped for a second to stare at her, melting ice cream forgotten.

“Are you serious?”

She nodded, and he asked incredulously, “How did you even know where he lives?”

“Well, actually I was delivering some gumbo he ordered from Maz. I wasn’t planning to…”

“Uh-huh, and since when do you do deliveries?” he interrupted.

She rolled her eyes and said, “Look, I know you said I had nothing to be sorry for but I blew him off and I don’t  _ do  _ that to people. I wasn’t planning to go storming over there but when the opportunity to clear the air came up, I grabbed it.”

He sighed and resumed walking as he replied, “You and your bleeding heart, I swear. And? How did that go? Not awkward at all, I’m sure.”

She felt herself flushing and clutched the straps of her bag a bit tighter. He was definitely about to call her an idiot, and she braced herself.

“It was, at first. But…”

“At first?” he repeated, eyeing her suspiciously as he tossed what was left of his ice cream - basically the stick - in a passing trash can.

“Will you  _ please  _ let me finish?” she demanded, exasperated and more than a little self-conscious, “Anyway, he told me I had nothing to apologize for and that it was all fine.”

“So...exactly what I told you?”

“Yeah, yeah, but I needed to hear it from him,” she said quietly, “Maybe it was selfish, I don’t know. I asked him if maybe we could be friends…”

Finn groaned, wincing and squeezing his eyes shut for a second as he lamented, “Oh, God, you didn’t. Rey, that sounds so  _ fake _ ...”

“Well I was completely sincere. He must have seen that, too, because he was okay with it.”

He slowed his steps again and asked, “What do you mean, he was  _ okay  _ with it? Okay, how?”

She began to fidget again, knowing how this was going to sound, and explained, “He basically said he’d be on board with friendship. And then hung out with me all night to prove it.”

“Hung out?”

“Yeah, it was...nice. Ordered food, drank some wine and watched some old shows...”

“Rey, that’s called a date.”

“No, it’s not. Not if nobody involved thinks it is,” she objected heatedly - maybe a bit too defensively.

“Yes, it is. You Netflix and chilled with the dude.”

“That’s  _ not  _ how it was, Finn,” she argued, “We were both clear on that. And I mean it, I really think we could be friends. We have common interests, and he’s up for it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he is.”

“What does  _ that _ mean?”

Now he stopped again and turned to her, and she was unnerved by the solemn look on his face as he regarded her with a trace of concern.

“Listen, I know you mean well and I’m sure you really do want a friendship with this guy. I’m not trying to put you down or make you feel like you’re stupid…”

“Sure,” she grumbled, crossing her arms and ducking her head under his scrutiny.

Sighing, he soothed, “I’m sorry, it’s just - Rey, I’m telling you, this isn’t gonna to go the way you want it to go.”

Frowning, she looked up at him and challenged, “Why? Guys and girls can be friends, Finn. Hell, we’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, but…” he broke off, scratching the back of his neck as he searched for the right words, “With us, it was  _ never  _ like that. That wasn’t the chemistry we had. But you two went there already, you dated…”

“One date!”

“Still, it counts! The only reason it didn’t keep going is because  _ you _ squashed it.”

“Finn, it was over a month ago. He’s over it.”

“Maybe, but he’s still attracted to you. He can’t just turn that off. When he met you, his first instinct wasn’t to give you a friendship bracelet, it was to ask you out on a date.”

She quirked a brow at him and teased, “A friendship bracelet? Maybe I should have mentioned that he’s not, in fact, a ten year-old girl.”

She shut her mouth at the withering look Finn gave her before retorting, “Stop deflecting. The point is, he  _ liked  _ you enough to ask you to go out with him. That doesn’t just go away, Rey.”

Now, Rey was feeling more than just uncomfortable and slightly self-conscious - she was annoyed. 

“Okay, well I don’t know what to tell you. Just because he asked me out on ONE date doesn’t mean that he looked at me and decided I was his soulmate and he was going to marry me…”

“Rey.”

“...or got an instant, raging boner that I’m now making  _ worse  _ by keeping myself tantalizingly close and teasing the poor man with a paltry offer of  _ friendship _ ...”

“Rey!” he hissed, grabbing at her hand and looking scandalized as he glanced around at the passers-by who had raised their eyebrows bemusedly over at her.

She pulled out of his grasp and ground out, “Stop taking my hand!”

“Will you keep your voice down? You’re getting way too worked up over this!”

“I don’t use my friendship a consolation prize to make men feel better when I don’t want to  _ sleep  _ with them, Finn. I take it seriously. I would have thought you’d understand that, being my best friend.”

Now, he looked contrite and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Rey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, you know I didn’t. I don’t know this guy, but knowing what he originally wanted and didn’t get, he probably doesn’t appreciate how much your friendship is worth. Most guys wouldn’t, to be honest.”

She sighed and shook her head, a silent acceptance of his apology, and replied, “I’m sorry. I know, I just...he said he was fine being friends. I don’t understand why this has to be so complicated. I said I wanted to be friends, and he could take it or leave it. He took it.”

Finn looked like he wanted to say something, to argue some more, but thought better of it at the last minute. Instead, he blew out a breath and asked,

“Why is this so important to you? I don’t understand. I thought you barely knew the guy?”

When asked this question directly, Rey found she didn’t really know how to answer it. She swallowed, thinking, and after a long pause she replied, “It’s hard to explain, Finn. I really didn’t like him at all, at first, and when he asked me out I - I sort of went by accident.”

Finn narrowed his eyes at this, but she waved at him and continued, “That night was the first time I got to really talk to him, and he surprised me. We’re alike in a lot of ways - but it’s more than that, it’s like we’re made from the same stuff. I think he felt that, too. And he seemed...lonely, somehow. And it was  _ me  _ he reached out to.”

He pondered this for a moment, then said, “So, you feel like you owe him or something? I don’t think…”

“No, no,” she interrupted quickly, “It’s not that. I sort of liked spending time with him, too, in a weird way since he really  _ isn’t  _ fun. I just...I wanted the chance to know him better. Just not on a romantic level.”

He sighed and said, “Alright, well...I really hope it works out, if you want it to so bad. Maybe I’ll meet the guy one day and take it all back.”

Rey bit her lip and contemplated whether she should just tell him who they were really talking about sooner than later when she suddenly realized they were in front of the restaurant. She decided to drop it for the moment - this night was about Finn, not her. Well, Finn and Rose.

“We’re here,” Finn sighed, looking at his watch, “A little early, but that’s better than being late.”

Rey shook her head and said, “I can’t believe you just ate an ice cream when we’re about to get dinner. Seriously, what’s wrong with you?”

“You already know everything that’s wrong with me,” he muttered, then looked at his watch again, put his hands on his hips and spun in a circle. Rey reached out and grabbed him by the arm, dragging him a few steps away from the al fresco dining area that was full of people enjoying the balmy evening.

“Finn, calm down. You’re gonna elbow someone in the face.”

“Sorry, I just…” he trailed off, then looked at Rey earnestly and said, “Speaking of really,  _ really  _ hoping things work out with someone…”

She raised her eyebrows and smiled at him, “Wow. A few months ago, you weren’t even sure you were that into her. What changed?”

He shrugged and replied, “I got to know her better.”

The words struck Rey for some reason, touched her with their simplicity. They sounded eerily reminiscent of something she’d said not two minutes ago. 

Before she could say anything else, Finn’s face lit up at something over her right shoulder, and she turned to see a small, impossibly cute girl in a blue sundress approaching them. She grinned, her face flushed, and she was wringing her hands in front of her.

“Hey!” Finn said warmly, and Rey resisted the urge to glance at him - she’d never heard that tone from him before. The thought settled in her stomach like hot tea, spreading through her and making her very happy for her friend.

“Hey,” the girl said, ignoring Finn as she walked right past him, up to Rey.

“You’re Rey!  Wow, I can’t believe you’re so…”

She paused, her face taking on a horrified glaze. Rey smiled, blinked encouragingly, and finally the girl finished, “...real. Sorry, my best friends are computers. I’m Rose.”

She stuck her hand out, almost jabbing Rey in the stomach with it, and Rey took it encouragingly.

“Finn’s told me so much about you, I could have said that same thing to you.  Except for the Rose part, I’m not Rose. I’m Rey.”

“Omigosh, it’s so great to meet you! I’m...Rose. Right, sorry, we already know that. Just a little nervous. Hi, Finn.”

She went to give Finn a hug, and he followed it with a peck on the lips. Rey couldn’t hide her beaming grin. Finn caught sight of it and smirked.

“Shut up. Come on, I’m so hungry I could eat a…”

“Ice cream bar?” Rey supplied, and Finn shot her a death look over Rose’s head as he steered them inside.

“Oh, I  _ love  _ ice cream,” Rose said gleefully, “We should get some after!”

The death look intensified, and Rey laughed as she followed them into the restaurant. Sometimes, when Finn introduced his girlfriends to Rey, the ease of their long-standing connection made the girl inevitably feel like a third wheel even though she was the one that was part of the couple.

Rey was bound and determined that Rose would never, ever feel this way because, frankly, she had a  _ good  _ feeling about this one.

It ended up being one of the most enjoyable evenings Rey had ever spent, and by the end of dessert - which Finn seemed to have no problem finishing, after all - she had decided that Rose was  _ the  _ one. She knew they hadn’t been dating long, but it was something about the little things - and frankly, Rey had gotten along with her brilliantly. She’d hang out with Rose even if she wasn’t Finn’s almost-girlfriend.

They decided to go and get a nightcap after, and while they were waiting for the subway, Rey found herself idly thinking about Ben. On impulse, maybe encouraged by the three glasses of wine she’d had, she pulled out her phone and shot a text off to him.

_ I think meatballs might be the secret to longevity. _

Smiling and hoping it would make him smile, too, she kept her phone out as the train pulled up.

 

~~

 

Ben panted, letting his eyes roam slowly over Bazine’s half-naked body as she rode him vigorously. Her nails scratched across his chest and he moaned - she knew he liked that, they’d worked together many times before. 

“Good, keep it up."

Ben fought the urge to roll his eyes as his fingers tightened on Baz’s thighs. Trust Hux to open his fat mouth and completely take him out of the moment. He let his eyelids slide shut as he focused on sensation, feeling himself start to lose his concentration.

The slide of his dick in and out of wet warmth, the friction, the tightening of his balls as he got closer to climax, the build of pressure in his abdomen. 

He opened his eyes again and reached for her clit, rubbing with his thumb. She keened and lifted herself off of him, turning onto her hands and knees and presenting her ass as she eyed him over her shoulder.

This was her favorite position to finish in if she had the choice, he knew, because she had never particularly liked to watch a guy come on her. She would let him, of course, if the director specified - she just preferred to get the money-shot on her back and let the PA clean her up.

He didn’t care, either way. At this point, he was getting tired and was about ready to wrap up for the day. Getting to his knees behind her, he gripped himself and thrust back inside, giving her ass a slap for the camera. 

“Again,” Hux commanded, and Ben complied, “Good.”

He went at it hard now, holding her hips for leverage as he fucked her. After a couple of minutes, he felt himself start to come and pulled out, ripping off the condom so that he could finish on her back with a groan.

Once they had had a couple of seconds to catch their breath, he leaned over her back and put his hand around her throat. She obliged, turning her head and receiving the kiss that would cap the scene.

“And...cut!”

Baz practically jumped off the bed, letting them clean her off before snatching the robe away from the PA and shoving her arms through it.

“In a hurry?” he drawled, taking the water the other PA was handing him and taking a grateful swig. Hux liked to keep the temperature on set ratcheted up sometimes - he said sweaty sex looked more real. Just another reason for Ben to hate him.

“Going out tonight,” she said, arching her eyebrows at him, “Want to join us?”

“No,” he said flatly, and she laughed.

“You’re such a shit, Kylo. But you’re a good lay.”

He shook his head as he walked back to the bedroom where he’d set his things earlier that afternoon. They had rented a house to use for this particular shoot, and he grimaced at the bright yellow walls and stencil balloons that denoted a child’s space.

At least they weren’t  _ shooting  _ in here. Thank god for small favors.

Screwing the cap back on his water bottle, he reached into his duffel bag and pulled out his phone to check the time. His stomach did an embarrassingly large somersault when he saw that Rey had sent him a text. He hadn’t seen her since the night she’d appeared at his door in all her gumbo-bearing glory, and he had scarcely stopped thinking about her since.

_ I think meatballs might be the secret to longevity. _

He felt his mouth curling into a half-smile as he quickly typed back,

_ Why’s that? _

He checked the time on the text - she’d sent it almost an hour ago. She might not still be by her phone, he thought disappointedly, but was delighted when he saw the bubble pop up, indicating she was typing out a response.

_ I just ate two pounds of them, so I have to come up with a justification. _

He barked out a laugh at this. God, she made laughing so easy - even for him.

_ I’ll buy that. Where are you? _

_ Had dinner at a place called Giulietta’s, it was amazing. _

He knew the place - a small Italian trattoria, not too expensive but definitely a candles and white tablecloth affair.  _ Perfect for a date _ , his brain supplied treacherously. He swallowed hard, feeling sick to his stomach.

She was allowed to date. They weren’t a thing. It was none of his business.

He knew he shouldn’t pry. He knew it, but he couldn’t help it - he had to know.

_ I know it, it’s nice. What was the occasion? _

He literally held his breath as he waited for her to answer and mentally railed at himself for being such a pathetic dipshit. It seemed like it took her forever to finish typing, his eyes glued to the little bubble the entire time, but finally her response came.

_ I was there with my friend. He was introducing me to his new girlfriend. And, I suspect, future wife. _

He exhaled loudly, relief crashing over him. He cringed at the thought of how he would have reacted if she’d told him she’d been out with some guy. He shook his head - he  _ had  _ to get past this if he wanted to do this friend thing with her, or he was going to slowly wither away and die. He typed out his response halfheartedly.

_ So you approve? _

_ One hundred percent. We’re out for a drink now. What are you up to? _

He paused as he read her text and his first impulse was to lie to her - but some perverse part of him wanted to see what her reaction would be if he told her the truth. If she would quail or say something awkward, in spite of her protestations that she didn’t care about his job as long as they weren’t pursuing anything romantic.

He felt driven to test her on that, and he didn’t know why. Or maybe he did, and he wasn’t ready to examine it closely.

_ Just finished work. About to shower then head home. _

He sent it, tense as he waited for any sign of backpedaling or for her to clam up and end the conversation. When her reply did come, it knocked the wind out of him.

_ Want to come meet us? We’re here for at least one more round and we’re close to your place, if you’re not busy. _

He stared at his phone for a long time. Long enough that Hux popped his head in and complained,

“Ren, we’re about to turn off the lights and lock up. Why the hell aren’t you showered and dressed yet?”

“Don’t you knock?” Ben snapped, his eyes still on her text.  _ Want to come meet us? _

“What’s the point?” Hux asked wryly, “You don’t have any modesty.”

“Get out.”

“Get dressed, we want to leave!”

“OUT!” he bellowed, stalking over and slamming the door in Hux’s face so suddenly that he barely backed up in time to avoid being beheaded by it.

But he did get dressed, his head swimming and his insides churning. He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to see Rey - just the thought made him so excited he put his shirt on inside out and didn’t bother to fix it - but he didn’t exactly relish the thought of making small talk with her friends. It wouldn’t end well, and he didn’t want to give her any more of a reason to see him as a socially stunted, awkward, rude-as-hell fuck than she probably already did.

Not that it was an unfair assessment. He just tried to avoid situations where it would be obvious.

As he was clomping down the stairs, his boots still untied, he got another text from her that solved everything in the most beautifully providential way possible.

_ Never mind, Finn and Rose said they’re out after this round. Maybe next time. _

Ignoring Hux’s angry braying as Ben stalled on the stairs and halted the process of locking up once more, he hurriedly typed back.

_ I’ll still meet you, if you wanted to stay out for a bit.  _

He stood there, refusing to move until he got a response from her. He was balancing on the edge of a knife with this girl, never knowing what to do or say, and besides - he never passed up an opportunity to fuck with Hux.

_ Sure, sounds good! I’m at the Chrysalis. You know it? The whiskey bar a couple of blocks from your building? _

His grin split his face, drawing several double-takes from the crew as he typed back.

_ Gotta take a quick shower and I’ll be there. Twenty minutes. Ok? _

_ Yep! See you soon! _

“Ren, even an oaf your size should move faster than this. Let’s  _ go _ .”

He slipped his phone into the breast pocket of his shirt, ignoring Hux. He jogged the rest of the way to his car, feeling lighter than he had in a long, long time and in real danger of getting pulled over on the way home for speeding. 

“Well, well...is that a rare smile I spy on your disproportionate face?”

He stiffened and turned, trying in vain to conceal his surprise at the idea of Snoke appearing on one of his sets.

“Sir.”

“I came to review the latest draft of your play, but I see you seem to have -  _ other  _ engagements planned for this evening."

Ben swallowed, his fists clenching behind his back as he replied, “I apologize. If I’d known you were coming…”

“You’ve been neglecting your writing, Kylo Ren. Have you changed your mind about what you want out of all this? Your ultimate goals?”

“No, sir.”

“Then I suggest you remain focused and not allow yourself to be distracted.”

Ben avoided meeting his eyes, staring instead at his hubcap as he deferred, “Yes, sir.”

Snoke regarded him for a long, tense moment, his eyes piercing in his misshapen face.

“The look you had on your face - is this about a woman, my boy? Don’t tell me you actually  _ found  _ a woman willing to abide a deeply disturbed, emotionally volatile man-child with a checkered past and an...unsavory job?”

Ben ignored the painful clench in his chest at Snoke’s words, because the truth was that he was all of the things that Snoke said he was, and no - Rey hadn’t wanted to give it a go with him. Instead, he fixed his expression into a mask of indifference as he replied,

“I remain dedicated to my goals. I won’t allow any distractions to interfere with my - our - plans.”

“Good,” Snoke murmured, then set a pile of papers on the hood of Ben’s car, “Here are my edits. I want a revised draft to me by Wednesday, understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well then,” Snoke turned his back and walked away as he said, “Have a pleasant evening.”

With that, he got into his car, heart hammering with anxiety and simmering anger. Snoke didn’t know how close to the mark he’d come, however, and Ben would die before he showed weakness. Or before he allowed this nascent relationship, friendship or whatever it was with Rey to be corrupted by his past. She was the best thing that had happened to him in a long time, and he intended to keep her to himself.

Besides, he wouldn’t let anything ruin his mood. He was supposed to be meeting Rey in less than fifteen minutes, and right now he didn’t care about anything beyond that. Slowly, the smile spread across his face again as he turned the key in the ignition.

He couldn’t wait to see her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have all been so wonderful about this fic. Starting next chapter we'll start to get into Ben's backstory, and I'm excited about that. Oh and I am painfully aware that I really stink at tagging - if anyone has tags to suggest for this fic, please leave a comment and let me know. Because the current tags are so vague.
> 
> If you like this story, or my other, Drops in a Bucket, come visit me on Tumblr and say hi! Emmyjeanb on Tumblr.


	7. I Scream, You Scream

Rey was pleasantly buzzed by the time she saw him come in, towering over the crowd that had gathered near the door. She raised her arm and gave him a little wave, and he nodded at her as he began to make his way over.

“Hi,” he said when he finally reached her, glancing around, “I didn’t think it would be this crowded.”

“It wasn’t, until about ten minutes ago,” she replied, “I think it’s part of a bachelor party or something.”

He nodded and sat, seeming too big for the chair, and squinted at the menu of offerings that was hanging over the bar on a large chalkboard.

“You a big whiskey drinker?” he asked, and she shook her head.

“No, but Rose is. Finn’s girlfriend. It was either this, or ice cream,” she said wistfully, and Ben raised a brow at her as she confessed, “I was the only one pushing for ice cream, actually, but Finn said three desserts in one night was too much.”

Nodding slowly, he seemed to consider the place for a second before glancing at his watch and suggesting, “Well, it’s not too late. You’re empty, I haven’t ordered yet - we can go for ice cream instead, if you want.”

Rey brightened, “Really? You don’t mind giving up your after-work drink?”

He shrugged, “Not really. I’m not a big drinker.”

Hopping eagerly off her chair, she shot him a look and said, “That’s funny, coming from a guy who has a bar in his living room.”

His mouth quirked in a small smile as he followed her to the door, “It came with the place.”

She laughed and led him out into the summer evening, the wind blowing the skirt of her dress gently around her legs as they started walking. He shoved his hands into his pockets and asked,

“So, where to?”

“This was your idea,” she retorted, “Your call.”

He frowned, then pulled out his phone, “Let’s see what’s close. I assume you didn’t drive.”

“Nope, subway. Mostly because I can’t afford a car, but I tell myself it’s about the environment.”

“I don’t do public transport,” he muttered, scanning Google Maps, “Less chance of running into people when I drive.”

“Yeah, you definitely shouldn’t run into people with your car,” she quipped, and he looked up at her, his eyes twinkling at her joke. 

“Not even the people that cross while you have the left turn arrow and fuck everything up?”

For him, this mood he was in was practically jolly. She mused that maybe she wanted to keep hanging out with him because she enjoyed the challenge of trying to get him as close as she could to something resembling carefree.

She grinned, “Not even those people.”

He smiled back at her and she took a moment to delightedly decide he had one of those smiles that completely changed his entire face before he held up his phone.

“There’s a little place about two blocks away. Soft-serve.”

“Perfect,” she said, taking a breath of night air, “It’s funny, isn’t it? When people say they want fresh air, then step outside to inhale the lovely fragrance of bus exhaust?”

He shrugged and shoved his phone back in his pocket as he replied, “I don’t know. When I was a kid, my parents bought a farm in Connecticut because they wanted to escape the whole city thing, but I feel like cow shit smells just as bad as exhaust.”

“Your parents were farmers?” she asked skeptically, and he snorted.

“Not even close. They were just pretentious. We didn’t live there, it was a weekend place.”

“They bought an entire farm as a weekend place?” she repeated, incredulous, “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” he said, looking distinctly uncomfortable for having brought it up.

“What did they grow on it?”

“Nothing,” he said, “Well, nothing good. There was an apple orchard on the property, and they had some - a few cows, chickens. They would make this big deal about how it was great that we could eat fresh eggs or whatever, but I didn’t really see the difference. It was mostly my mom - I think my dad thought it was bullshit, too. Half the time, he didn’t come with us when we went.”

“Who took care of it when you weren’t there?”

“My mom hired people. Why do you find this so interesting?”

“I don’t know, because I’ve never really known anyone who had a summer  _ farm  _ before,” she laughed, “Did you milk the cows?”

“No,” he replied, looking mildly offended at the mere thought, “I sat in my room with my headphones blaring until it was time to go back to New York.”

“Ah,” she said thoughtfully, “So you were one of those emo kids who was miserable to be around and hated everything?”

“Yeah. Not much has changed.”

They walked in companionable silence until they got to the ice cream place, and he reached out and held the door open for her as they went in. She marched up to the counter and asked the kid working there what the biggest size was, then ordered it. Ben quirked a brow at her and asked,

“Hungry?”

“No, I just love ice cream. I don’t usually treat myself, so I figured I might as well make it worthwhile.”

He ordered his in a cup - vanilla, no extras. She raised a brow at him.

“You know, I didn’t think it was possible to take the fun out of ice cream, but you’ve done it.”

“What?”

“Vanilla? In a cup?”

He seemed perplexed and asked, “What’s wrong with that?”

"You didn't even get syrup!"

At that moment, the kid behind the counter passed Rey her cone - which was dipped in chocolate and covered in cookie crumbs, and was also the most humongous thing she’d ever seen. She almost dropped it when she took it from him. Ben made a face.

“At least I don’t need a forklift to get mine out the door.”

She ignored him, taking a bite and sighing happily, “This is definitely worth the five dollars I just wasted. I’m in heaven.”

Ben was now holding his own boring order, stirring it with a spoon before eating it. She watched as he rolled the taste around in his mouth before sticking his tongue out and licking the back of the spoon clean.

She quickly looked away, feeling inexplicably flustered.

“Want to go sit outside?” she asked, willing her blush to go away and wondering what the hell was wrong with her. Must be the lingering effects of the whiskey, she thought to herself.

“Sure. Need help carrying that?”

“Stop it,” she grumbled good naturedly as he smirked his way through another bite, and she turned to lead the way before she got caught watching him.

They went to sit down at the tables outside and Rey went to town on her cone, so focused on getting the most out of her splurge that she didn’t notice he wasn’t eating until several minutes later. When she glanced at him, he quickly averted his eyes and cleared his throat before hastily filling the silence.

“You said you don’t usually treat yourself. Why?”

Licking chocolate off the corner of her mouth, she felt a weight settle in her stomach. This was a topic she really didn’t want to be on, and she tried distracting him from it.

“I forgot napkins.”

She made to get up and grab some from inside but was thwarted as he quietly held out a couple for her, having apparently been so alarmed by the potential disaster that could arise out of the combination of her giant cone and the warm evening that he had grabbed them on his way out.

He was still waiting expectantly for an answer, and she shrugged.

“If you do something all the time, it’s not special anymore, you know?”

He stared for a long moment, then murmured softly, “Yeah. I do.”

Now she really  _ was  _ blushing, because he definitely wasn’t talking about eating ice cream. She ducked her head and barrelled forward, deciding that spilling her guts a bit was preferable to awkward silence.

“Whole wheat bread, peanut butter, a case of those instant lunch ramen-things - they’re cheaper if you buy in bulk, like most stuff - and toilet paper. That’s my regular grocery list. I only bother with the list because I don’t want to admit to myself that I’m so broke that I don’t need a list. Ice cream is a luxury.”

He hummed, regarding her quietly. Rey was struck by what a patient, intent listener he was - he was shit at talking to people, but he was a spectacular listener. She shook her head self-consciously as she finished,

“Finn hated when I’d do the shopping, back when we lived together. He wasn’t as uptight as me about it, but then he didn’t want to pay for any more school.”

“Finn? The guy you just had dinner with?”

“Yep.”

He stabbed at his ice cream with his spoon and then asked, “Did you guys used to date or something?”

“Oh...no, never. He’s my best mate. We met at Fordham - oh, actually, you know him!” she exclaimed, suddenly remembering how she’d met ‘Kylo Ren’ in the first place, “You work with him.”

He frowned, “I  _ work  _ with him?”

Determined not to make his job the perpetual elephant in the room, she nodded, “Yeah, he’s a - I think it’s called a boom operator?”

He exhaled and confirmed, “Oh. Yeah, a sound guy.”

“Yeah, he’s really good, too. Says he wants to do real films one day, so he’s…”

She trailed off at his wince, feeling horrified as she realized what she’d just said.

“God, sorry - I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just…”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, although there was a bitter edge to his voice, “I know most people write it off as shit, not art.”

“It’s not shit,” she protested weakly, “I just meant…”

“It’s fine,” he said dismissively, then blew out a breath.

Swallowing nervously, she asked, “Does talking about your job make you uncomfortable?”

His eyes shot to hers and she covered up her own discomfort with a huge crunch of her cone as she waited for his answer.

“Not usually,” he replied, holding her gaze, “Can I ask you a question now?”

She was startled, but recovered quickly and asked, “Are we going to take turns, like a game? And whoever doesn’t want to answer has to take a bite of ice cream?”

He frowned and replied somewhat confusedly, “I - guess, if you want.”

She burst out laughing and declared, “You are  _ impossible  _ to tease, do you know that? Has anyone ever told you you’re serious to a fault?”

He went beet red from the collar of his shirt to the tips of his ears, and Rey immediately felt guilty. Even with how little she really knew him at this point, she knew that he was embarrassed about his social awkwardness and she needed to be gentle with her wit - he wasn’t easy going, like Finn. She had to remember that.

She opened her mouth to smooth it over, but he stabbed his spoon into his ice cream and muttered, “Plenty of times.”

“Sorry...I really didn’t mean it as an insult. But you  _ have  _ just proved my point, you realize?”

His eyes shot up to meet hers, and she was immensely relieved to see a smile creep up the corner of his mouth. Satisfied that he wasn’t angry, she said,

“Now, what did you want to ask me?”

“Have you always been poor?”

She coughed a little at the blunt delivery and the smile froze on her face.  He didn’t apologize or reframe his question at the look on her face. He had no finesse, no concept of softening his words, as though his entire purpose in talking to anybody was to get to the point and get to it quickly so that the conversation could be over. She blew out a breath, flustered, and answered,

“Well, I told you before that I grew up in the system. Not all of my foster families were poor, but none of them were well-off and even when it was alright, I didn’t have anything that was really mine. So, I guess the answer to your question is, yes. I have.”

He idly turned his cup in his hand but didn’t take his eyes off of her as he suggested, “Then don’t you think it’s about time you allow yourself a gallon of ice cream on your grocery list?”

She stared at him and shook her head, “You don’t understand. That’s easy to say, but when I spend money on things I don’t need, I feel like I’m betraying myself. I have to stay focused on what I want to do, or I’ll never get it done.”

“You feel guilty because you grew up thinking you weren’t entitled to nice things.”

“I wasn’t,” she argued, “No one’s entitled to anything, and all anyone was obligated to give me was a roof over my head and enough food to live on. Which...that last one was always subject to interpretation.”

His eyes narrowed as he asked, “You mean, there were foster homes that didn’t feed you?”

Rey shrugged, looking away from him at the trees rustling in the wind as she mentally backtracked to figure out how the hell she’d gotten herself into this conversation in the first place. She hated talking about her upbringing - she’d rather talk about almost anything else. As it was, she was fighting the urge to either snap at him for being so intrusive or getting up and running away from him.

Instead, she found herself mumbling, “There were some who weren’t very good about it, that’s all.”

There was a long pause before he asked, “What did you do? How did you…?”

“How did I survive?” she cut him off, eyes flashing, “I just did. I picked through the garbage behind restaurants, or I’d do odd jobs in exchange for a few quid. Eventually, I was old enough to get a real job at a takeaway place and it got better. Then I aged out, and came here.”

He nodded, slowly, and asked, “Why here?”

“Because I got a full-ride at Fordham. And because…”

She paused, looking at him hesitantly. He looked back at her, looking like he was hanging on her every word. She wasn’t sure she’d ever had someone just listen to her like this. 

“I just wanted to get away from the memories. From all the people who had always looked at me and judged me based on things that had nothing to do with who I was - who I am. The dirty clothes, the skinny limbs. But the worst part was that there wasn’t anybody I was actually leaving behind when I left. I know that probably doesn’t make sense to you, but…”

“It makes perfect sense to me,” he interjected, his voice a rasp, “I know that feeling, too.”

She frowned slightly and cocked her head at him, “How? You didn’t grow up poor. Your family bought huge pieces of property for weekend getaways and organic food.”

“And you didn’t grow up the way I did. When you’re born into privilege and with huge expectations hanging over your head, you’re almost bound to disappoint people. So, yeah, I get it. Feeling judged, left behind. Being seen as lacking something fundamental and being rejected because of it.”

She was silent for a long moment, searching his face. She could feel herself bristling at his words - he had no idea what she’d been through. He couldn’t really be expected to, but he had no right to speak to her as though they’d had the same experience and minimize how far she’d come. Not wanting to start a pissing contest but unable to let it go completely, she said carefully, 

“That’s...I’m not sure that’s the same thing.”

Smiling slightly, he replied, “Sure it is. The only difference is that you got abandoned by people you didn’t know, and I got abandoned by the people who knew me best. Which is actually worse.”

Her face slowly twisted into an incredulous little glare.

“But you at least had your basic needs taken care of. You had food, a home, people who cared about you...”

“I had food, yeah,” he cut her off, “Don’t make assumptions about the rest.”

They held each other’s gazes defiantly for a moment, and she knew she should apologize for her tone and change the subject, but she couldn’t back down. Not about this.

“You’re saying your parents didn’t love you?” she asked, wary and not without a healthy dose of skepticism.

His expression was suddenly thunderous and he practically spit out his answer, “I’m saying I have no way of really knowing, since they sent me off to boarding school for most of the year and then to my uncle’s shitty creative writing camp every summer. Maybe they convinced themselves it was to ‘nurture my gift in a healthy environment’, as my mother used to say, but I sure as hell didn’t feel particularly  _ loved _ .”

Her mouth had dropped open at the vehemence of his response and, after a few seconds, he seemed to get himself under control again. Then he looked stricken.

“I’m sorry, I - god,  _ fuck _ . I didn’t mean to raise my voice.”

“It’s okay,” Rey said, her righteous indignation suddenly deflating, “I goaded you.”

“No, Rey, I…”

“I don’t know any more about your experience than you know about mine. I shouldn’t make assumptions, you’re right. You really are.”

He opened his mouth to argue, then exhaled and slumped back in his chair.

“I know I must seem like some spoiled trust fund kid to you,” he said, wincing at his own words, “And you’re right, I never had to pick through the fucking garbage to find something to eat. But believe me when I say that I probably felt just as unwanted as you did. Just in a different way.”

“Ben…”

“I got used to being alone, eventually,” he continued, “Which is why, when I do try to relate to someone, it usually ends like this.”

“Like what?”

“With them thinking I’m an asshole,” he replied self-deprecatingly, and she smiled.

“I wouldn’t be here if I thought that,” she assured him, then after a beat she decided to push a bit, as he had with her, “So...your parents?”

“What about them?” he asked flatly.

“You don’t get along?”

He sighed and replied, “I barely speak to my mom. My dad’s...dead. He’s been gone for awhile now.” 

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, then looked down at her lap, “I know this sounds awful, but I always sort of -  _ hoped  _ my parents were dead.”

She felt his eyes on her but didn’t have the courage to look up. She just listened to his even breathing in the uncharacteristic stillness of the evening, and eventually he pressed,

“What?”

He said it softly, curiously - no judgement, and it made her feel like she could go further.

“I guess I thought...if they were gone, if something had  _ happened  _ to them, then I wouldn’t have to face the possibility that they just didn’t want me and were off living merry lives somewhere without me as their burden.”

He was very still for a long moment, and finally he replied, “I understand.”

She met his eyes, taken aback at the fact that he didn’t offer her platitudes or the usual  false reassurances that she’d heard a million times before. He simply let her know she’d been heard, and a surge of gratitude overwhelmed her.  Unbelievably, she was glad she’d opened up to him.

He returned her warm gaze and they fell silent again, listening to the breeze rustling through the leaves and car horns in the distance, and after several minutes Rey decided they needed a subject change before they got up to leave.

“So, Antigone.”

He blinked, then caught up quickly, “Oh...yeah, the play you mentioned?”

“Yep, I got the tickets yesterday - I’m really excited for it. I’m assuming you’re still in?”

“I don’t know - not sure I want to be seen in public with a garbage-picker.”

She drew back, shocked, and he shifted in his seat nervously. Then her face lit up in a grin that she knew was all-teeth and full-dimple and asked,

“Are you trying to tease me?”

He visibly relaxed and murmured, “Glad you caught that.”

She rewarded him with a laugh, a real one - if it had been anybody else, she might have been offended, but for some reason she wasn’t.

“Well, I’m agreeing to be seen in public with a grumpy, spoiled, trust-fund-kid-turned-porn-star, so…”

His eyes widened, and after a beat, his face split into a grin too. His teeth were slightly crooked, and Rey suddenly felt funny. His smile was adorable, and she had to avert her eyes to remember what she had been saying.

“Anyway, it’s on the eighteenth. Mark your calendar.”

“I don’t have a calendar.”

“Then tattoo it on your forearm.”

At this, he barked out a laugh. It made Rey’s face flush with a kind of strange, pleased pride - she’d actually gotten him to  _ laugh _ . 

He leaned forward over the table, his expression odd as he watched her, as though he was still wary of talking about his job with her, and said carefully, “I’m not allowed to get inked. It’s part of my contract.”

She just frowned and asked curiously, “Really? Why?”

“They use me in a lot of period stuff. Snoke says it’d be an anachronism.”

“They really  _ care  _ that much?”

“Not usually, but Snoke does.”

“Who’s Snoke?”

“My boss, he owns the production company,” he explained briefly, seeming suddenly eager to drop the topic instead of risking another bout of oversharing or emotional meltdown, “Anyway, the 18th. Got it.”

“Great. And...sorry, I should go. The combination of whiskey and ice cream is starting to get to me. I’m pretty sure I’ll be asleep within fifteen seconds of walking into my flat.”

“How are you getting home?” he asked, following her lead and standing up.

“Same way I got here. Subway.”

“It’s late,” he said, and was about to say something else when she cut him off with a finger pointed in warning.

“If you offer to pay for an uber, I’m going to slap you.”

“No, I was gonna offer to drive you.”

She squinted up at him, craning her neck back. He was standing very close, and she suddenly got a chill. She gave him a little shake of the head and said,

“I’m good. Listen, thanks for giving me an excuse to eat ice cream.”

She turned and started walking, but didn’t get far before he stopped her.

“Rey,” he intoned, having not moved an inch, “Come on. My place is the other way.”

“I’m going to catch the subway, I said.”

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck as he argued, “Look, I just want to make sure you get home safe, alright? You can pay me for the gas.”

She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously, “You mean that?”

“Yes,” he insisted impatiently, and she silently acquiesced and walked back toward him. He seemed relieved, and as they walked side by side down the darkened street, him with his hands fisted in his pockets and she clutching the sweater she was wearing, she gave him a sidelong glance and said,

“You’re not going to let me actually give you money for petrol, are you?”

“Not a chance,” he replied, the corner of his mouth rising in a smirk.

“You promised.”

“No, I didn’t.”

She shook her head, unable to suppress her own smile, and retorted, “You’re so difficult, Ren.”

“I tried to warn you. And that’s not my name.”

She looked at him and exclaimed, “It isn’t? Seriously, again?”

He shot her a look and drawled, “You thought my name was Ben Ren?”

She’d never put them together but now that he said it, she had to chuckle and agree, “Well, it would go a long way to explaining why you were such an angry child.”

He snorted, loudly, and said, “If only it were that simple.”

“Well, what is it? 

“What’s what?”

She honestly couldn’t tell if he was trying to rile her up by pretending not to understand her question, or if he wasn’t paying attention to what she was saying even though he was literally staring right at her as they walked, his eyes roaming leisurely over her face and a small smile still playing about his mouth.

“Your  _ name _ _?_ I can’t believe I even have to ask you this, Ben. Christ.”

“It’s definitely not ‘Christ’.”

She elbowed him in the arm, and he smiled softly at her and said, “Solo.”

“Ben Solo?” she repeated, her brows raised.

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Oh,” she replied, “Well, nice to meet you, I guess.”

He laughed, and so did she, and she was struck with how incredibly glad she was that she agreed to stay and wait for him at Chrysalis. She’d been contemplating telling him to forget it and suggest a rain check, but she’d enjoyed some good whiskey, a good dinner, and good company - and she just hadn’t felt that she had gotten the most out of her evening at that point.

She’d been right.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing like heavy conversation over a heavy dessert, huh? ;)
> 
> Thanks so much for the support, guys! I'm glad to have something to write for you while I struggle with writer's block on Drops (I'll get there sooner than later). This chapter went through a few rounds of overhauls and there was definite cutting and pasting - hopefully it doesn't seem choppy.
> 
> Also, I know I'm slacking at replying to everyone's comments, I'm so sorry. But know that I read every single one and they mean a lot to me!
> 
> Come and say hello on Tumblr - I'm at Emmyjeanb


	8. Dirty Little Secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Lord...angst ahoy! This chapter is a little longer, sorry. I will be responding to comments, I promise. You all are the Bomb.com. :)

Ben stood at the sink in his bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, and stared into his medicine cabinet at his cologne.

_Don’t fuck this up._

He reached for it, then pulled his hand back in uncertainty. It was too much. He couldn’t look like he was trying too hard - or, at all. Not that wearing cologne was necessarily out of the ordinary for him, but he was hyper aware of everything he did when it came to her. The cologne might send a message that he didn’t want to send.

Or rather, that she wasn’t interested in receiving.

Raking his hands through his still-damp hair, he decided to just splash on some aftershave and then shut the medicine cabinet with more force than he meant to, the sound reverberating sharply in the cavernous bathroom.

He felt like a fraud. He had accepted that she didn’t want a relationship with him that went beyond being buddies who texted and hung out every once in awhile - and he really _did_ understand why - but he couldn’t help how he felt.

It kept him up at night.

But he had quickly come to admire the hell out of her. Maybe more than he’d ever admired anyone else - _even Snoke_ , a treacherous little voice whispered in his head - and he wasn’t about to give her a reason to drop him.

He would respect her boundaries even if it killed him.

Growling in frustration and commanding himself to stop overthinking it, he snatched up his deodorant and put it on before tugging an undershirt over his head before grabbing up his button-down. New, nice quality - white, probably the only white garment he owned. He’d bought it especially to wear tonight, because she’d teased him about all his clothing being dark when he drove her home from getting ice cream the other night. She’d punched him lightly in the shoulder and had told him he didn’t have to project the ‘brooding vibe’ so hard all the time.

And he’d gone out the next day and bought a fucking _white shirt._

He looked at his reflection in the mirror and his lip curled up in disgust.

“You pathetic fuck.”

Shaking his head at himself, he finished getting dressed and then grabbed his keys. He planned on getting there early, so that he could collect their tickets at will-call and have them ready for her when she arrived.

It wasn’t a date. It _wasn’t_. The mantra he’d been repeating over and over to himself since he’d seen her last - hell, since the night she’d shown up at his place - echoed in his head.

_Don’t fuck this up._

 

~~

 

“There you are!” Rey greeted breathlessly as she hurried up to him, her face lit up in a smile, “I thought I saw you towering over here, but then I thought it couldn’t actually be you because you’re not in black.”

He willed himself not to blush as he looked down at himself and mumbled, “You told me I dressed like a wraith, so...”

“It looks good on you!” she said, nodding in approval, “Definitely makes you look less...intense.”

“That’s a good thing?”

“Well, sure. It makes you more approachable to people.”

“In that case, wait here while I run home and change into the darkest shit I own,” he drawled, and she laughed lightly.

“Such an arse."

At this, he held up her ticket for her to take, his lips curling up into a smile as she blinked at him and amended, “Okay, fine. You’re alright sometimes.”

“That’s all it took?”

“I hate queueing. You have no idea.”

He chuckled, checking his own ticket before suggesting they head inside. She agreed, and they found their seats with no trouble. They chatted about random things as they waited for the performance to begin, eventually settling somehow into an energetic discussion about the last time they’d been on a real vacation - it had been quite awhile for both of them - while he actively tried to avoid letting his eyes linger on her legs where they were crossed in front of her.

He was relieved when the lights dimmed and the curtain went up, giving him something else to focus on.

The show itself was very good, a fresh take on what had originally been Anhouil’s _own_ fresh take on a very old story. Mostly, he suspected that his enjoyment of it had been enhanced by the fact that he was in her company. Sitting beside her felt right, and he found himself wondering if perhaps he should start initiating more often with her. Thus far, he’d been so afraid of making a mistake that he’d let her take the lead on when and how often they saw each other. He was even afraid to be the one to reach out via text most of the time.

The simple fact was that he wanted to see her more often, and he was going to start trying to make it happen.

Once they got outside, she clasped her hands together and said, “Oh, gosh, I have _so_ much to say about that! Did you like it?”

“Yeah, it was excellent,” he nodded, “Do you want to grab a drink?”

“Actually, I’m starving. Do you mind if we grab something to eat instead?”

“Sure, works for me. Where to?”

“Um,” she hesitated, “I don’t know...what do you feel like? You know I’ll eat anything.”

He looked at her and considered his options - his first instinct was to suggest someplace nice, but he remembered her saying that she didn’t like spending money and since this wasn’t a date, he wasn’t treating.

“It’s a nice night - want to grab some tacos from the cart over there and sit down somewhere?”

Any lingering disappointment he harbored at not having the option of buying her dinner at a nice place evaporated as her entire expression erupted in delight.

“That would be _perfect_.”

Ben smiled fondly as Rey ordered her tacos with every condiment and topping imaginable, including the hottest sauce they had available. When she caught him staring, she shrugged and said,

“These are gonna give me reflux regardless, so I might as well make it worthwhile. Are you going to get yours plain, Mr. Vanilla?”

He snorted and looked at the vendor, who had just carefully handed Rey her dinner and was waiting for his order.

“Two steak and two fish, please. And a couple of Cokes.”

“Oh, bollocks, I forgot to order a drink,” she said suddenly, and he replied,

“I noticed. One of those is for you.”

“Oh...thanks. In that case, I’ll get us some chips and guac to split.”

The vendor quickly got them set and on their way. Ben took his tacos and handed her one of the sodas, and they went to find a bench. She lead the way, chattering as they went about the play and the performance, somehow managing to be animated even without the use of her hands.

“You know, Anhouil’s adaptation premiered in Paris during the occupation,” Ben said as they sat down, reaching into the bag she was holding for a chip and crunching on it as he continued, “It was a thinly-veiled attack on the Vichy government.”

“I know,” she nodded, because of course she did, and mused, “I always wondered how it got past the Nazi censorship.”

He shrugged, nabbing another chip while she opened the cup of guac and held it out for him, “Maybe it’s clearer to us in hindsight. Who knows.”

“I have to say, I always liked this version even better than Sophocles.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, taking a huge bite of taco and licking a bit of stray chipotle sauce off his thumb.

“I know, that’s probably literary blasphemy,” she whispered as though telling him a secret, and he smiled.

“No, I agree. Greek drama was never really my thing. I know it’s the entire foundation of theatre as we know it, but…”

“I know it’s not your thing,” she laughed, nudging him with her elbow and teasing, “Homer’s love - remember?”

He blinked at her for a moment before remembering his ill-fated attempt at a crossword puzzle back when he was trying desperately to have a normal conversation with her. And now here he was, staring down at her as she munched a chicken taco, her eyes twinkling at him as the summer breeze blew her hair gently around her face.

He felt incredibly lucky. And also felt incredibly _fucked_.

“Yeah, well,” he muttered, knowing his face was turning pink and unable to do anything about it, “I tend to overthink stuff. When I’m not being reckless and emotional.”

“And crossword puzzles don’t make you emotional?”

“Do they make _you_ emotional?” he asked, quirking a brow at her before finishing off his first taco and reaching for another.

“Depends on what day it is. They get harder as the week goes on, you know. I’m not above weeping over the weekend edition.”

He laughed then - a belly laugh that startled even him.

“So,” she asked, eyeing him sideways, “Reckless and emotional, huh?”

He shrugged and replied, “That’s what they tell me.”

“Who?”

“Half the people I know. The other half think I’m a cold bastard.”

She frowned and said, “Well, I mean - I think, if I were you, I’d nurture the ‘reckless and emotional’ persona.”

Swallowing a gulp of soda, he asked, amused, “Why’s that?”

“Seems like it would be more convenient for you, as a playwright. All the drama it could create, that you could write about later.”

He looked down at his tacos and sighed, “I’m not really a playwright, Rey.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, capping her soda and setting it down before diving into the chip bag again, “You told me once that you’d written original stuff?”

Now supremely uncomfortable, he shifted and cleared his throat.

“I have, yeah, but I haven’t finished anything in years and nothing’s been produced. Not professionally..”

She only hesitated a moment before she asked, “Why not? Just your muse being difficult, or…?”

He took his time answering, taking a bite of food and trying to decide how much to give away as he chewed slowly. Finally, he replied,

“I write all the time, but what comes out is mostly shit.”

“Who says?”

“My editor.”

She laughed lightly and said, “I’m pretty sure if you have an editor, you’re officially a writer, Ben.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” he replied, smiling back at her.

She took another huge bite of taco and asked, her mouth so full he could barely understand her, “Who’s your editor?”

“Snoke.”

Rey swallowed and blinked, confused.

“Snoke? But didn’t you say he owned your...I mean, the production company you work for?”

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug and said, “First Order is sort of a side business for him. He saw an opportunity there and snapped it up, which is what he’s good at. He’s actually a well-respected thespian - he edits and produces, mostly. He runs the company under a pseudonym. Snoke isn’t his real name.”

She processed this, then questioned, “What does he get out of it, though? I mean, the whole - side business?”

“Money,” Ben said flatly, “Snoke was ahead of the game when the industry got blindsided by the internet, and he bought up a bunch of the free distribution sites early. He runs a network now and makes bank on advertising. He also produces his own stuff - through First Order - so he can charge premiums for it. He’s a brilliant businessman.”

“Why would anybody pay for porn, though?” she wondered aloud, then froze in embarrassment and rushed to clarify, “I just mean, you can easily get it for free now, so…?”

“Because the premium stuff is better quality. You don’t have to wade through a ton of shit before you get to something worth watching. Plus, it’s legal and streamlined. No shady shit.”

She nodded slowly, brow furrowed, and his hopes that this conversation would end there were dashed as she asked, “And...how did you meet this guy? Snoke?”

Ben drew a breath and explained, “He was a benefactor of Stanford’s drama program when I was working on my undergrad. He ended up seeing some of the productions I put on through the university. He took an interest, and he’s been my mentor since.”

She narrowed her eyes and after a moment of deliberation, she said carefully, “So...you wanted a mentor that would guide you into becoming a bonafide playwright. How exactly does that translate into the arrangement you have now?”

“What arrangement, specifically?”

“Where he makes a ton of money off the films you churn out for _his_ production company while you struggle to find your voice in the career you _actually_ want? The one he promised he’d help you with?”

He bristled slightly - she was flying too close to the sun and he didn’t want to get burned in her wake. Also, he wasn’t about to spill the entire reeking mess of his life story to her right then.

“I went through a rough patch a few years after college - got into some trouble, and didn’t have anywhere else to turn,” he explained tersely, “He offered me a shit-ton of money to work for him because he said I had magnetism. Said he could give me a new identity until the dust settled. He said he’d mentor me in return, he claimed to have connections…said he’d personally edit the piece I’d been working on for years, and would even produce it himself.”

“And the dust hasn’t settled yet?” Rey asked softly, obviously sensing his discomfort, “This had to be several years ago, Ben...”

“He says we’ll move forward as soon as my play is finished. It’s _my_ fault that it’s not done. He says I’ve lost my vision. It keeps having to go back for more rounds of editing...”

“But...he’s the one editing it, so _he_ gets to decide when it’s finished, is that how it works? Ben - he could keep you tied on a string forever that way, can’t you see that? This is a conflict of interest.”

He leaned back and tossed his empty soda bottle into the trash behind him as he replied sharply, “Yeah, well - I owe him for a lot of things.”

She was spared from answering when someone called her name. Frowning, she turned her head and then stilled as a man and a woman approached, hand in hand. Ben glanced at her as she swallowed her bite of taco heavily and then coughed, reaching for her soda and taking a swig before calling hoarsely,

“Finn, hey!”

Ben froze, his stomach dropping as he recognized the guy - this was her best friend, former roommate and boom mic operator for First Order Productions. He’d seen him on set only a few hours ago, although he hadn’t known at the time that he was who he was - he’d sort of been trying to avoid finding out which sound guy was Rey’s ‘Finn’. He never socialized with anyone on set anyway, so it wasn’t hard to do. Now, though...

Finn apparently recognized him in the same moment because he slowed almost to a complete stop, his brow furrowing as he squinted at them. Ben felt Rey tense beside him, and he cast his eyes downward and cleared his throat uncomfortably.

For some reason, he felt more exposed in that moment than he ever had when he was stark naked and in compromising positions in front of this guy every day.

_Because now you’re finally exposing something genuine to him,_ he thought wryly. The voice in his head sounded like Snoke, and he quickly banished it. When the other couple finally reached their bench, the girl was still beaming, apparently unaware of the tension.

Lucky her.

“Hey! I thought I saw you getting tacos from that truck a minute ago and Finn didn’t believe me! He said you never eat out,” she said excitedly to Rey before smiling at Ben and greeting, “Hi there.”

“Hi,” Ben replied gruffly, glancing at Rey. Finn, for his part, looked from Rey to Ben with an incredulous expression on his face and asked,

“What...is _this?”_

He said it like it was an accusation, and Ben felt his temper spark to life. He pressed his lips together, willing himself not to react poorly and to let Rey handle it. This was _her_ friend.

“It’s...dinner?” she replied haltingly, “Tacos. The truck’s over there, if you guys want to get some and join us.”

The nervous tremor in Rey’s voice made Ben look over at her, and the sight of her made him feel like he’d been punched in the gut. She was flushing beet red, she wouldn’t look Finn in the face and her fingers were picking compulsively at the foil wrapper around her food.

She was embarrassed.

She was _embarrassed_ that she got caught here with him.

The realization was like a ball of lead in his stomach. He felt utterly dejected for a brief moment - and then his ingrained, well-honed defense mechanisms began to kick in, and roiling anger began to overtake every other emotion.

“Oh, no, that’s okay,” the other girl was responding, looking flustered by the tension in the air that she clearly didn’t understand, “We wouldn’t want to interrupt your date.”

“It’s not a _date_ ,” Rey said hurriedly, her eyes still on Finn, and when she turned to look at Rose she added, “We’re just hanging out. Seriously, if you guys want to join us…”

“No,” Finn replied curtly, “We already ate.”

There was a protracted silence, then Rey cast her eyes down to her hands in her lap and mumbled, “Alright, well…”

“I’ll call you later,” Finn promised, guarded, his eyes on Ben. Ben returned his stare evenly, remaining still even though he was itching to stand up and deck him.

“Okay,” Rey replied, too brightly, then smiled, “Rose, I’ll see you soon?”

“Oh,” the other girl yelped - she was so engrossed in trying to figure out what the hell was simmering underneath this whole bizarre conversation that she was startled at being directly addressed - and said, “Oh...yeah! I’m sure you will!”

With this, Rose waved a carefree goodbye and both she and Finn walked away into the bustle of the evening, still hand-in-hand.

Ben and Rey sat in silence for a long moment once they were alone again. Rey squirmed a bit, seeming more than a little guilty, and Ben -

Ben was _seething_.

Finally, Rey blew out a breath and said, “Sorry about that. I didn’t - ”

“Didn’t what?” He snapped harshly. “Want to introduce me?”

Rey blinked up at him, “What?”

He nodded towards the direction they’d gone and growled, “Your friend’s an asshole. And you just sat there and took it, like you felt indecent for getting caught next to me on a park bench.”

Rey paled, averted her eyes from him, her fingers playing with a napkin - fingers that were shaking slightly. She didn’t have a fucking leg to stand on, he realized with a sinking heart, because it was true.

“He - look, he was just surprised, that’s all. I haven’t really told him that you and I are friends...”

“Why?” he demanded cynically, “We work together. You’re telling me it never came up?”

She opened her mouth to answer, then closed it, shaking her head, tearing the damn napkin to shreds now. He wanted her to defend herself, to tell him that what he was thinking was wrong, but she couldn’t.

Because he wasn’t wrong. He knew _exactly_ why she hadn’t wanted her friend to know that she was spending time with him like this, and it had him unexpectedly teetering on the brink of a full-on, classic ‘Ben Solo’ rage. A rage that only increased as she fumbled to explain herself.

“It did, just...generally. I didn’t mention your name.”

He huffed, then asked cuttingly, “I guess I’m your dirty little secret, huh?”

“Ben, no. It's not like that at all, it’s…”

But again, for what seemed like the umpteenth time in the last few minutes, Rey was uncharacteristically at a loss for words.

_Problematic. A liability. Degenerate. Dangerous._ All things he’d been called many times before, to his face and otherwise, went rushing through his head. He’d had this wound for as long as he could remember and it felt like she had ripped it open and was now pouring salt inside with her obvious attempts to reframe what he knew to be the truth.

“Look, it’s just complicated with Finn because you work together. I just didn’t want to hear it from him, alright?”

Ben knew he should just back down, shove more food in his face and go back to talking about Sophocles - but he couldn’t. His emotions were slipping through his fingers and he couldn’t focus on anything else.

“Fine, I get it,” he muttered through gritted teeth, forcefully folding up the wrapper around his tacos, his temper, as usual, making him blunt and callous, “Maybe it wouldn’t be weird, if he hadn’t just spent all day watching me fuck some woman in the ass. But he did, so…”

Rey winced at his words.

“Sorry, does that bother you?” he flung at her with a snarl, “Because I could have sworn you said that if we played this according to your rules, you’d have no problem with what I do or who I am. Clearly, you were full of shit.”

Her face flushed bright red and a sick part of him relished her offended look when she insisted, “I _get_ it, alright? I handled this like shit, what do you want me to say?”

“There’s nothing left to say. I’m fucking _done_.”

He stood and made to hurl his now-cold tacos into the trash can next to the bench and she abruptly shot to her feet and grasped his bicep.

“Don’t!” she yelped, then composed herself a bit and said with as much dignity as she could muster, “Don’t waste them.”

He frowned - then ignored the clench in his heart at her desperation to avoid wasting food. He shoved the wrapped tacos into her hand, and without a word, strode away from her.

He recognized the spiraling, the need to get away from her and avoid the very real possibility of him punching a tree or overturning the bench or kicking over the garbage can like some unhinged neanderthal. He closed his eyes briefly and tried to remember the breathing techniques they’d taught him to do when he felt himself going over the emotional edge...diaphragmatic breathing, they called it…

“Ben, come on, please?”

He spun around, fists clenched and chest heaving, and glared daggers at her as she scurried up to him. She slowed, and he immediately recognized the telltale flicker of fear in her eyes as she looked at him.

Fear. She really was no different than anybody else. Fucking _figured_.

“Just let it die, Rey.”

Then he walked away, and didn’t look back.  


~~  


Rey was shaking as she stuffed the leftover tacos in her bag, half-considering throwing them away anyway so she could avoid any reminder of the disaster this evening had turned out to be. She’d stood staring at Ben’s retreating form until he disappeared from view, and then stood there for so long someone came up to her and asked her if she was alright.

She really wasn’t.

Slowly, she reached into her bag as she began walking back toward the subway and pulled her phone out. Glancing at it, she saw that she had a text from Finn.

_Call me when you get home._

She felt her chest tightening with anxiety, among a host of other things, chewing her lip as she swiped her screen and waited for him to pick up.

The third ring got cut off by his hurried, “Rey?”

She had planned to yell at him. To tell him that he had no business being so rude and causing such a huge blow-up - but when she heard his voice, something inside her withered.

“Oh, God,” she choked, shocked to feel tears in her eyes, “Everything just got so fucked.”

Finn was silent for a moment - she sensed that he had his own diatribe he’d been planning to deliver, but at the sound of her broken voice he was rethinking it. After a moment, he sighed and asked gently,

“What happened?”

“He accused me of making our friendship my ‘dirty little secret’ and stormed off. Didn’t even finish his food.”

“I’m sorry, Rey, I know I probably caused this. But - and I’m saying this as gently as I can - this situation was _always_ going to end up fucked.”

She rolled her eyes, sniffling as she struggled with the turnstyle and responding, “Finn, can you not? I don’t need a load of ‘I told you so’s…”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do, I promise,” he soothed, “I can hear how upset you are. I just - I stand by what I said before I knew it was him. You two weren’t on the same page, and it was never gonna work.”

“But it _was_ working,” she protested, “Until...God, Finn, he was furious _._ ”

There was an edge to Finn’s voice now as he replied, “Yeah, well that’s not surprising. That guy’s got big-time anger issues. He storms off set when he’s frustrated, punches holes in walls…he’s just a fucked-up, violent person. Everyone knows it.”

Finn’s words should have made Rey feel better about potentially being rid of her relationship with Ben, especially considering how far off the rails he went before he left her standing there holding their cold tacos, but they didn’t. If anything, they made her feel worse.

“Ben’s never like that with me,” she insisted quietly.

Another pause, then Finn asked, “Ben who?”

Rey flinched and clarified, “Kylo Ren. That’s his real name.”

There was a long silence, and finally she heard Finn sigh heavily before he asked, “What do you want out of this, Rey?”

She shrugged, picking at a frayed thread on her skirt, and replied, “I want to fix it.”

“Fix what? Be honest - is he just some project to you? A soul to save?”

She glared out the window of the train car and muttered, “No, of course he’s not. People aren’t _projects_.”

“Look - I think the guy is a prick, and I don’t really care about his life or what kind of shit he’s going through. But I _do_ care about you, and you need to really think about this before you continue.”

She was silent for a long moment as she let Finn’s words sink in - for so long, that it prompted him to speak again.

“You still there?”

“Yeah, I - yeah,” she murmured, then sighed and said, “I get what you’re saying, okay? I’ll figure it out.”

“Good,” he said, then asked carefully, “So...are you gonna try to contact him?”

Her throat felt shockingly tight as she replied, “I don’t know. I mean, he said he was done with me, so...”

Finn let out a huff, then assured very reluctantly, “Rey, I doubt he really is. But if he is, you need to respect that and let it go. For real, this time.”

Rey closed her eyes and swallowed, hard, as she took the gut-punch that Finn’s words dealt her. The idea of facing him again and trying to work through whatever the hell had happened earlier was daunting enough, but the idea that he might be out of her life for good was much, _much_ worse.

That sickening feeling alone told her that Finn was absolutely right. She needed to start doing some major soul-searching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is this mess? They both need soul-searching, Again, thank you all for the support! Goood stuff up ahead. ;) Love you guys!


	9. Cards on the Table

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 4th to my Yankee compatriots. Thank you again for all of your comments, and special thanks to @reylofanficclub and @ntantzen on Tumblr for recommending this as Fic of the Week on their Discord group. I was really touched, thank you!
> 
> This one is a bit long, too - fair warning! This one required a bit of exposition, but hopefully it flows. Also, mind the added tags. Nothing too terrible in the actual chapter, but wanted to call those out in case.
> 
> Two long chapters in one week - I think I need a drink and a burger. Good thing it's a holiday where people tend to drink and cook burgers!

Over the next couple of days, Rey kept to her flat. 

She read bits of a book she’d been meaning to pick up without really remembering any of it afterwards, she finally sent out her applications to grad school - ready or not, here she came - but mostly she sat on the tiny balcony that was attached to her bedroom with a mug of hot tea and stared into space, thinking.

Her childhood had made her obsessive about being in control of her own life. She didn’t like to be beholden to anyone, ever, and she took pride in owning herself and her circumstances. She loved that she was good at being able to make the most of whatever situation she found herself in, even if the situation wasn’t ideal.

If she was short on money, she could feed herself for a week on less than $10. If she needed a new pair of jeans, she got a rush from diligently combing the thrift stores until she found the perfect pair and not settling for less - if she couldn’t afford new jeans, then she  _ would  _ find the best pair of second-hand ones out there.

Even when she couldn’t control every variable, she could at least shape things into an echo of how she wanted her life to be.

The situation with Ben Solo had taken all that and basically smashed it to pieces - her sense of self-preservation, her confidence, her conviction that she would always put doing the right thing over doing the selfish thing.

She didn’t even know what the right thing  _ was  _ anymore. It was an uncontrollable situation that she’d tried to take control over, and it had blown up in her face. Spectacularly.

He hadn’t contacted her, and she vascillated between relief and crushing disappointment over it. At this point, she had no idea what she’d say to him if he did try and reach out. For the past two days, since that horrible debacle of a Saturday night, she had been taking Finn’s advice to heart and had been thinking, hard, about everything.

She had pondered on what she’d been thinking when Finn and Rose had walked up to them that night, and whether or not she really had been ashamed to be caught with Ben. With a knot in her intestines, she forced herself to concede that yes - she had been ashamed.

But not of Ben. The shame she’d felt had been directed solely at  _ herself _ .

For creating an untenable situation for the both of them. For being selfish and lying to herself about what was really going on. For her disingenuousness, and her cowardice, and her naivety.

That wasn’t who she was, but it was what she’d turned herself into as she twisted herself into a pretzel trying to force a square peg in a round hole.

So to speak.

She never cried. She didn’t think it was worth it, mostly. As a little girl, she learned the hard way that tears never improved a situation - most of the time, they actually made things worse. But she had, more than once over the past two days, shed some tears for Ben.

It was Monday evening when Finn finally called her. She hadn’t spoken to him, either, since he’d challenged her to reevaluate things - she was vaguely angry at him, and wasn’t sure if she had a right to be. So, to avoid saying something that she’d regret later, she simply avoided him. She knew they’d do their usual Friday night pizza and movie date anyway, and figured she’d be able to work through her shit by then.

Maybe.

So when she answered the call, she greeted him with the tone of someone who was bone-tired and not keen on conversation.

“Hey.”

“He’s not okay, I don’t think.”

Rey didn’t have to ask who Finn was talking about, her face going hot as she clutched her phone to her ear and slowly sat up straight on her threadbare sofa.

“What do you mean?”

He seemed to hesitate for a moment, then told her, “I’m not saying it’s your problem or anything, but I just...I assume you haven’t been in contact. And I wasn’t gonna say anything, but I knew you’d probably be mad if I didn’t…”

“Finn,” she interrupted impatiently, her heart thudding in her chest, “Just get to the point, please.”

A sigh, and then, “He wasn’t at work today. Production can stagger along without him for now, but…”

Rey felt sick.

“You mean, he’s  _ missing?” _

“No!” Finn quickly clarified, “No, no...sorry, no, nothing like that. He called, said he was sick and would be taking a couple of days. Hux is furious, and I - maybe he really does just have the flu or something, I don’t know.”

She swallowed, hard, and said, “I don’t know what to do.”

Trailing off, she waited for Finn to say something wise and sensible.

“I don’t know either, Rey. I really don’t. I will say that after thinking about it for awhile, I felt sort of bad for stomping all over your date. Or, sorry...not date. Your...friend date. Or whatever.”

“Helpful,” she groused, and he blew out a breath.

“I’m sorry. I’m stumped on this one. I’m still not over the weirdness, but I’m working on it.”

“Okay,” she conceded, and then added, “Well, thanks for letting me know.”

“Sure. Listen, I gotta go, but if you do hear anything...well, whatever. I hope he’s okay, I guess.”

Rey hung up the phone and hugged one of her pillows to her chest. BB hopped up to rub his head on her elbow, perhaps sensing her distress, and she groaned.

“What do I do, BB?”

The cat just blinked at her, and she knew she was well and truly on her own with this one. She allowed herself a couple of seconds to forlornly wish she had a mother or a sister she could call and ask, now that Finn was out of commission as her advisor when it came to the Ben situation, but cut off that train of thought before she made herself even more miserable.

Biting her lip, she decided that she’d rather be someone who made a mistake because they cared instead of a scared, closed-off arsehole and grabbed her phone from the coffee table. Before she could talk herself out of it, she composed a text and sent it to him.

_ Haven’t heard from you. I completely get it, but please just let me know you’re ok. _

She put her bookmark into her book and turned the TV on - there was no way she was going to be able to concentrate well enough to read, now. So, TV it was. She was just flipping to a Law and Order marathon when her phone chimed. Her hand shook as she picked it up.

_ I assume you talked to your friend. _

It wasn’t exactly snarky, but the mention of Finn immediately and vividly brought them right back to their argument from the other night. She winced, but decided she had been the one to open the door, so she couldn’t backpedal now.

_ Yes. _

She kept it simple. She wasn’t sure what headspace he was in, and she didn’t want to make things worse.

_ He’s worried about me? Touching. _

She drew a breath - definitely unhappy. Still, she persevered. 

_ No, but I am. Did you come down with something? _

This time there was a long lag time before he responded.

_ No. _

“Oh,” Rey said out loud, her throat constricting at the obvious dismissal. She set her phone down, deciding to think for a few minutes before she decided the best thing to do. Part of her thought maybe she should just leave him alone, if that’s so clearly what he wanted her to do. 

That just wasn’t what she really  _ wanted  _ to do.

She got up to grab her jar of peanut butter, not even bothering with the bread, and a glass of water. Pulling a spoon out of the drawer, she absently twirled it into the jar and tried to imagine what she would want from her, if she were Ben.

It didn’t help, because she was pretty sure she knew exactly what Ben wanted from her. It was the main thing that she was forced to admit to herself in her slog of self-reflection. 

It had been painful. Because it made her confront a lot of uncomfortable truths - that their entire friendship was a sham, that Finn had been right all along, and that maybe the reason the whole thing was imploding was because she had put Ben in a position that only had the potential to hurt him from the get-go just to assuage her own guilt and hang onto the kind of relationship with him that  _ she  _ had wanted.

It was worse now, though, because she really and truly liked him. She enjoyed spending time with him, more than she would have expected, and she looked forward to the things they did together. She had been telling him the absolute truth when she said she didn’t make friends easily, but it was amazing how quickly she’d come to consider him not just a friend, but a confidante.

And it was ruined now, because she’d expected him to put aside his real feelings and had been content to ignore Finn’s warnings that people can’t actually do that.

“Bollocks,” she muttered to herself as she went back into the other room, still clutching her jar and her drink.

There was another text waiting for her when she came back. She practically tackled her phone, and when she read it, she was torn between anxiousness and elation.

_ Can we talk? _

Her thumbs flew over her screen as she replied.

_ I was hoping you’d ask. _

His reply was instantaneous.

_ Not like this. In person. _

_ Okay, sure. When? _

There was a bit of a lag time and then,

_ Tonight? _

Her heart leapt into her throat. She looked down at her ratty pajamas and around at her tiny one-bedroom with the second-hand furniture bought on Craigslist, bare cupboards and cat that wasn’t even hers. Shaking her head, she sent back her response.

_ Meet me at Maz’s in half an hour? _

It took so long for him to reply that she almost wondered if he’d changed his mind. 

_ Ok. _

She released the breath she’d been holding, and squeezed her eyes shut. She still had no earthly idea what she was going to say to him, or what he was planning on saying to her. However, it was too late to back out now - even if she wanted to, which she really didn’t. She quickly went to her bedroom and pulled on jeans and an old T-Rex shirt, and then refilled BB’s water before she walked out the door.

“Send up a prayer for us, BB,” she said as she pulled the door closed, leaving the cat to his own devices.

She knocked on her landlord’s door on the way out, and he opened it with a friendly smile, dressed in a brown leather jacket and tight jeans.

“Hey, Rey,” Poe greeted, “What’s up?”

_ God, he was good-looking, _ she thought briefly - as she always did when she saw him - before she smiled back and said, “I’m heading out, but I just wanted to let you know that BB is at my place. I had to leave and he didn’t seem to want to get off the sofa, so…”

“Did you leave the window open?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, that’s cool, he’ll just climb down the tree out back if he wants to leave. Which he probably won’t. I mean, when are we just gonna start calling it like it is and say he’s  _ your  _ cat, not mine?”

“Not a chance,” Rey laughed as his brown eyes twinkled at her, “I can’t afford the vet bills.”

“Oh, so you get the cuddles and I get stuck with all the bills? This is a raw deal,” he chuckled, and she waved as she moved for the front door.

“Well, you pay the bills with  _ my  _ rent money, if it makes you feel better. Besides, it’s your own fault for kicking him out all the time.”

“Hey,” he called jokingly as she walked out, “I do it for love! That’s  _ noble _ , isn’t it?”

“Sure,” she replied, rolling her eyes, “Love. That’s it.”

He laughed, his white teeth flashing as he winked at her and said, “See ya later, Mami.”

She blushed at the endearment and fumbled with the door handle.

_ Smooth _ , she thought to herself briefly, before the anxiety began to build back up as she remembered where she was going and why.

 

~~

 

He was already there by the time she arrived. She assumed she’d get there first, seeing as how she was a full twenty minutes early, but there was no mistaking the broad expanse of black t-shirt clad back. He sat, broad shoulders hunched, on the same stool he’d sat on the first night he’d come in. She wondered if he did it on purpose or subconsciously as she approached him.

He startled when she slid into the stool beside him, his fingers tightening on his pint glass as he glanced at her hands and not her face.

She’d barely settled into her seat when he spoke first.

“I’m sorry.”

It came out as a rasp, and she glanced up at his face. Her lips parted and her brow furrowed in concern - he looked awful. He had dark circles under his eyes, he clearly hadn’t shaved in a couple of days and his normally luscious black hair was slightly greasy. She swallowed and replied softly,

“You have  _ nothing  _ to be sorry for. I’m the one…”

“No,” he interrupted a bit harshly, still not looking at her, “Please, just...can you just let me say what I came to say?”

She wanted to argue already, but decided she needed to let him lead this conversation.

“Okay.”

He nodded slightly, then frowned as Mike came over to get her order.

“Howdy, Rey. You know you don’t actually have to come here if you’re not working, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” she said, forcing a smile and glancing at Ben. He was tapping his glass with his forefingers and blatantly glowering at Mike, clearly agitated, so she quickly pointed at the nearest tap and ordered, “Can I just have a pint of that?”

Mike’s brows went up and he asked, “Don’t you hate IPAs?”

“Well, I haven’t tried that one. You never know,” she replied dismissively, and Mike thankfully seemed to take the hint. He poured her beer, set it down in front of her and went back to the other end of the bar to talk to a couple of the regulars.

There was a brief silence in which Ben seemed to be building himself up to talk and she took a sip of her drink, then made a face.

She really  _ did  _ hate IPAs. 

“When I was growing up…” he began, then stopped abruptly, swallowing visibly before suddenly redirecting, “What do you know about Anakin Skywalker?”

Rey blinked - she’d spent the last two days thinking of things she expected, hoped, or dreaded he would say if and when they spoke again. This...didn’t exactly make the list. However, going by the tension in his jaw, it was an important question to him for some reason and so she answered honestly.

“I...he was a brilliant playwright who led a troubled life and died in prison.”

He waited, then asked, “That’s all? I thought you studied this stuff in college.”

She frowned and wondered where this was going, but clearly Ben wanted her to be more thorough with her answer. Well, if this was what he wanted to talk about, she’d talk about it. Even if she had no idea why.

“I mean, he was basically the voice of the Expressionist movement in America. He won the Pulitzer for  _ Chiaroscuro _ , but people said that writing it was what pushed him into alcoholism. He crashed a car into a van full of children while he was drunk, was convicted, and died in prison a couple of decades later.”

Ben was very still as she spoke. When she finished and looked at him expectantly, he finally raised his eyes to meet hers.

“He wrote  _ Chiaroscuro while  _ he was under the influence, actually. It was the product of a mind unbound by inhibition and expectation. Set free and allowed to reach its full potential.”

She didn’t know what to say, so she just murmured, “I’ve heard that before, I think, but it’s just speculation. Nobody knows for sure.”

He continued as though she hadn’t spoken. As though he’d rehearsed this.

“They also don’t know the extent of the price he paid to reach that level of pure expression. He didn’t just barrel into a van full of kids - he also murdered his wife one night while he was high on LSD. He had an adverse reaction, hallucinated and choked her until she fell backward down a flight of stairs. She was nine months pregnant at the time.”

Rey stared at him, eyes wide, and stammered, “I - I thought she died in childbirth? How could…?”

“They saved the twins, who were put up for adoption, but Skywalker’s wife didn’t make it. She bled out on the table. His people covered it up, swept it under the rug. The crash a few months later made it a moot point, because he went to jail anyway.”

“Jesus…” she breathed and, now so caught up in the story she’d almost forgotten about their own drama. Ben went on,

“The truth was, he drank and used drugs when he was in a creative rut. He was prone to bouts of major depression when he got writer’s block, and was basically a good man who went off the rails when he self-medicated. He continued to write in prison, under the pen name Darth Vader, but none of that stuff was ever published. It was mostly journals - all disjointed, incomplete. He’d lost his ambition.”

She nodded, then her brow furrowed as she asked, “How do you know all this?”

He drew a breath and replied, “The stuff he wrote in prison - I have it. All of it.”

She stared, stunned, and asked, “You’re kidding. That’s got to be worth a fortune! How did you get it?”

He held her gaze and did the thing that he always did with his lips when he was trying to decide if or how he was going to actually say something. After a moment, he rumbled,

“He was my grandfather.”

Rey was so shocked that she was surprised she didn’t fall right off of her bar stool. Her mouth dropped as she looked at him, watching as his dark eyes scanned her face, intent on her reaction. Finally, when she did manage to speak, all she could do was repeat stupidly,

“Anakin Skywalker was your _ grandfather?” _

He nodded, and she picked up her beer and took a couple huge gulps of it, not even caring that it tasted terrible. Setting it down, she said,

“Oh, my God, Ben. That’s...”

“I know you’re probably wondering why the fuck I dragged you out here to listen to me go on and on about this.”

She looked at him and objected quietly, “You didn’t drag me. I wanted to come.”

He didn’t look like he believed her, and shook his head, “Let me get to the point. Please.”

Rey relented with a nod, and he sighed as he told her, “Obviously, talent with words runs in my family. I won my first award at age seven, and they never stopped coming. Everyone talked about how prose was in my blood, because of Anakin. How I was a prodigy. I was published by the time I hit puberty.”

“Really?” she said, smiling. He didn’t smile back, and she let hers fade, too. Apparently, he wasn’t telling her any of this out of boastfulness.

“The comparisons to my grandfather were a double-edged sword. Every time someone talked about my talent, my parents would look at me and see a ticking time-bomb.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, puzzled.

He shrugged, frowning into his beer - she could see he was struggling with this story. It made her heart clench.

“They didn’t want me to be like him, for obvious reasons. I was an emotional kid, though, and every time I had an outburst it was like all their worst fears were coming true. All they could see when they looked at me were all the ways I could fuck up all of our lives down the road. By the time I got to high school I was pretty fucked up, and it became a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

Ben trailed off, and Rey wanted to say something - anything - to make him feel better as he recounted this but she knew he wouldn’t want her to do that. So, she just listened.

“At that point, I was trying to find my my own narrative voice. My parents thought my stuff was too dark, too disturbing. They said it was violent and sent me to therapy, for evaluations and shit. I guess some of my stuff was intense, but…I just remember feeling like they didn’t really like  _ anything  _ about me,” he spat, then added pointedly, “In other words, I felt like they were ashamed of me.”

He lapsed into silence again, his face betraying his pain as he stared into space, lost in his thoughts. Rey, for her part, was finding it hard to swallow past the lump in her throat.

“Oh, Ben...”

“The point is, I’ve always struggled with anger, Rey. Not just feeling it, but also not being able to deal with it. I’m prone to fits of rage when something sets me off. Bouts of depression, just like him. I’ve always hated myself for it. I’ve got a better handle on it than I used to, but every once in awhile I lose it, and…”

“Ben,” she interrupted, unable to stay silent any longer, “Please, stop. Stop beating yourself up, especially about the other night. You had every right to be angry, and I deserved every bit of it.”

“I shouldn’t have run off on you the way I did, but I was afraid I was gonna do something stupid. Not to  _ you _ ...God, I’d never…”

He paused, running a hand through his hair, and she replied, “Ben, I - look, there are some things I want to say to you, too. Do you...can we get another drink?”

He glanced at her, then said, “Sure.”

They waved Mike over, got their round - Rey changed beers, because there was no way she was drinking another one of  _ those  _ \- and then she took a steadying breath.

“You’ve been so open and honest with me about so many things, and...I owe you the same.”

He didn’t say anything, waiting patiently for her to continue. She felt like she was standing on the edge of a yawning abyss but knew she needed to make that leap of faith, and began,

“You talked about your anger issues, and...I have issues of my own. For me, it’s trust issues and  _ huge  _ control issues. It’s because of the way I grew up, I think - I got bounced around so much, and I had no control over where I landed or who I was going to have to let into my life. Some of them were wonderful, but some of them…”

She trailed off, now, and although she wasn’t looking at him, she could hear his slow intake of breath that indicated his understanding of what she hadn’t said. After a moment, she went on,

“I hated the lack of control, and so really opening up my life to people is usually a chance I don’t want to take. But with you, I - it’s hard to explain. Something about you made me want to take the chance. I don’t - I don’t really know how to…”

“It’s okay,” he said, his voice barely a whisper, “I felt it, too.”

She closed her eyes, swallowed, and confessed, “Ben - I’m so sorry you felt like I was ashamed to be seen with you. I put myself under a microscope after that, because I wanted to know if there was even the slightest chance that that’s really what was going through my head.”

“And?” he asked, his voice cracking.

“And it wasn’t. I realized that I was uncomfortable because I’d built our friendship on a foundation of sand, and I could pretend it was solid as long as nobody else was around who could see it for what it really was. Finn barging in on us ruined that. Particularly Finn, because...”

She stopped, and there was a long pause before she finished,

“I just...I want to be completely honest. The truth is, Finn’s been telling me all along that friendship isn’t what you really want because of how this all started, and I just...I don’t know. Whether that’s true or not, I - I’m sorry if you ever felt like I was disregarding your feelings to get what I wanted.”

She slumped a little in her stool, playing with some condensation on her glass so that she could avoid looking at him. The moment stretched, taut, for what seemed like an eternity. When he finally spoke, it shattered.

“I’m in love with you.”

She physically jolted as his words hit her like a blunt force trauma. 

She’d known it. Of course she’d known it, and had probably known it from the beginning. It had been obvious, in retrospect, when she wasn’t trying desperately to pretend all the little signs and clues weren’t what they so clearly were.

But to hear him say it was an entirely different kind of shock.

She looked at his hands, in fists where they rested on either side of his beer. Exhaling slowly, she reached out her hand to hesitantly cover his. After a beat, he unclenched his hand and turned it underneath hers, lacing their fingers together.

His hand was so large, and warm. She couldn’t screw up the courage to look at him, his declaration still hanging in the air between them, unanswered. Licking her lips, she whispered, 

“I know.”

They sat like that, silent and both breathing heavily, for an endless moment. She could feel his eyes boring into the side of her face, the intensity practically setting her skin on fire. Finally, he was the one who spoke first.

“You don’t feel the same.”

It was a statement, not a question. She felt tears prick her eyes as she said dejectedly, “Ben...”

Rey tried to pull her hand away, but he wouldn’t allow it.

“Look at me,” he commanded gently, and she complied. His expression, which he was trying to school into something that wasn’t haunted and broken but wasn’t completely succeeding, nearly destroyed her.

“Rey, listen…”

“I’m sorry, Ben,” she choked, unable to keep it in long enough to listen to whatever he was going to say as she held his gaze, “I’m sorry that I made this mess. I know it’s completely my fault, and I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself. I’ve been in denial this whole time, and now...”

“I shouldn’t have said it,” he murmured, running his free hand through his hair, “I shouldn’t have put that on you.  _ Shit… _ ”

“No, I’m glad you said it. It was honest. It’s just...it’s just going to be hard to let go. This sucks, and it’s my fault.”

At this, his dark brows snapped together.

“Let go?” he repeated sharply, “What are you talking about?”

“I mean, we can’t keep doing this - I can’t keep  _ making  _ you do this, when friendship isn’t what you want...”

“Rey, fuck no,” he protested, his hand tightening on hers again as he ducked his head so she would look at him, “That’s not how this is going to go down.”

“But you...”

“You just told me that this friendship  _ means  _ something to you, and now you’re gonna just walk away from it because I’m a fucking moron?” he demanded, then hesitated as he reached out with his other hand and brushed the hem of her t-shirt with his fingertips before abruptly pulling back, “We can still make it work, alright? We’ll just go back to hanging out and pretend this conversation never happened.”

“Ben, you can’t be serious,” she said, shaking her head, “We can’t do that. It’s not fair to you.”

“Look,  _ I’m  _ the one that fucked up,” he cut her off, his voice rising in anger, but Rey knew it was directed more at himself than her, “I knew what I was getting into with you. You keep saying this is your fault, but it’s not. You were clear from the beginning what this was and what it  _ wasn’t _ , and I accepted all of that.”

“But this isn’t just about me, and I can’t let you settle for something you don’t really want! What kind of friend would that make me?”

“Rey,” he interrupted, his voice firm with resolve now, “I can’t control how I feel or what I want, but shouldn’t I be able to decide what I can and can’t handle? Fuck what I said. It doesn’t change anything.”

She looked at him, really looked, and knew without a doubt that he was completely sincere when he said he wanted to hang onto the friendship. She knew it wasn’t healthy for him to repress his feelings indefinitely, and she didn’t want to put that on him. On the other hand, she had felt his loneliness all the way down to her bones. She’d bonded with him over it, because that same kind of loneliness had scarred her, too.

If he still wanted her in his life, to go along just as they had been before all this, then wasn’t it cruel for her to deny him that?

She didn’t know what to do.

Faced with her indecision, he kept talking. Pleading.

“I don’t really know why the hell I said it, Rey. I should probably have just taken it to my grave. I guess I just wanted all our cards on the table, because you wanted honesty, but I shouldn’t have put my bullshit on you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not bullshit,” she blurted sharply, then, sobering, “How you feel is not bullshit.” 

They looked at each other, both startled at her outburst.

“Okay,” he said finally. “But just,  _ please.. _ .”

The moment he said it -  _ please  _ \- Rey knew she couldn’t tell him no. She knew she couldn’t order him out of her life, or walk out of his, just because he’d had enough courage - not to mention respect for her - to be brutally honest. It was what she’d asked him for, and he’d given it to her.

It wasn’t his fault that his honesty had wrecked her. Tuning out all the alarm bells that were telling her they were going to make an even bigger mess of this sooner or later if they went down this path, she said,

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he breathed, relief softening his features as he realized she was relenting, “Look, I’ll get over it. It won’t be an issue. I promise, you don’t have to worry about it. I’m fine.”

A long, tense silence stretched between them before he blew out a breath, picked up his beer and motioned at her shirt with his other hand.

“So, anyway...T-Rex is overrated.”

She blinked, then frowned in mock offense.

“Yeah?” she replied tartly, smirking as she allowed him to push them past the drama and back to familiar territory in spite of her lingering uneasiness, “ _ You’re _ overrated.”

He snorted and gave her a side-eye as he replied, “Well, that’s definitely true.”

They somehow managed to finish their beers, get through another round after that and even a game of darts. It felt almost normal, bantering back and forth, talking about this and that. Both of them willfully ignoring the awkward haze that lingered around them in the aftermath of their conversation, hoping that it would dissipate with a little more distance and time. For her part, Rey refused to make it more awkward by letting her mind wander backwards - by allowing herself to replay any of it in her head. She simply wouldn’t do it.

She managed to get through the evening, then all the way back to her flat and into her bed before it returned to barrel into her consciousness again.

_ I’m in love with you. _

She lay on her side, hugging her pillow and staring out the window at a moth that was fluttering against her screen, trying to get to the small, dim lamp she always kept lit to stave off the darkness.

“What the hell am I doing?” she murmured to it, because the moth wouldn’t judge or rail at her or give her unsolicited advice.

She just had to say it out loud - and she  _ damn  _ sure wasn’t going to breathe a word about any of it to anybody else. Not with the way her chest was treacherously tingling at the memory, sending her into a confused and fitful sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the world of Emmyjean's fanfiction, where big stuff happens and yet nothing really changes. Because I'm sorry, but I love a slow-burn. Don't worry, though, because the perspective is what matters - and Rey is definitely going to be looking at everything from a WHOLE new perspective now. ;)
> 
> Also, I know some of you are going to be mad at her for letting this situation continue, but poor girl is between a rock and a hard place, here, too. At least now they both know where they stand. Good stuff coming up, including a LOT more about their backgrounds. And we haven't even GOTTEN to Luke yet. :)
> 
> Thanks for reading, everyone!


	10. Denial Isn't Just a River in Egypt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rey ignores her inner voice - until she just can't anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, some of you have asked and I feel I should state clearly before you read this chapter - no, romantic DamRey is NOT a thing in this story. Just...remember that.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy the update!

Rey woke up to the sound of her phone buzzing. Grumbling, she reached out and squinted at the text that was waiting for her.

**_I’m about to order chocolate chip pancakes. Just FYI._ **

It was from Ben. Mouth curling upward in spite of the rude awakening, she blearily responded.

_That gives me two reasons to hate you right now._

**_Only two?_ **

_You woke me up, then you tell me you’re eating pancakes - with chocolate chips. Yes._

Glancing out the window at the sunny morning, Rey briefly wished that she didn’t want to go back to sleep so badly. It looked like it was going to be a gorgeous day. Her phone went off again, and she grinned as she read his response because it was like he was reading her mind.

**_You shouldn’t still be in bed, it’s beautiful out._ **

She shook her head and replied,

_I work until all hours in a pub. I'm allowed._

**_Carpe diem. Come meet me. My treat._ **

She couldn’t help the little flip her stomach did at the offer, and she quickly chalked it up to the fact that she always got excited at the mention of food.

_You’re joking. I’m in my pajamas._

**_So are half the other people here. At Harry's in Burbank. Get your shoes on and get moving._ **

Rey bit her lip. Her bed was warm and comfortable, and the temptation to lie back down and drift off again was almost irresistible.

Almost.

“Pancakes are pancakes,” she murmured gleefully to herself as she threw off her covers and did exactly what he said - stuffed her feet into some flip-flops and took off out the door. If he ended up being embarrassed by her Curious George pajama bottoms - which were bright red and had huge, bright yellow bananas all over them - then that was his problem.

Truth be told, she thought as she threw on her West Ham hoodie and sunglasses, she wasn’t just excited for the pancakes.

She was excited for the invitation. Excited that he'd extended it so casually, so easily - it felt like a confirmation, to Rey. That he really was willing to go on.

Maybe everything really _was_ going to be okay between them after all.

 

~~

 

About twenty minutes later, she was walking through the door of the pretty little diner, pulling her sunglasses off and pushing stray wisps of hair behind her ears. She didn’t have to scan the breakfast crowd for long, as he was hard to miss - and she grinned smugly at his horrified expression as he watched her approach his table.

“You were the one who said pajamas were okay,” she reminded him, sliding into the booth.

“I assumed you had better taste,” he retorted, and she shrugged.

“What’s the saying about assuming, again?”

“It makes an ass out of you and me,” he muttered, his lips twitching, “But in this case, mostly you.”

She huffed a laugh and looked around before asking, “Off today?”

His expression fell a little and he replied, “I’m heading to work after this. I’ll be late but fuck it, I don’t care.”

“If I showed up with that attitude, Maz would pull me off the bar and put me on dish duty.”

“Yeah, that would pretty much ruin the free gumbo thing I’ve got going for me right now.”

“Well, thanks to breakfast diners, you wouldn’t starve,” she said brightly, pulling the menu out of the napkin stand and glancing at it, “And you don’t have to treat, by the way.”

“Yeah, but I’m going to. I dragged you out of bed.”

“I could have said no,” she replied, pinning him with a look, which he returned and said,

“I knew you wouldn’t, though, because it’s food.”

“So you basically used my one weakness to manipulate me into this?”

“Mmm-hmm,” he affirmed around a sip of coffee, “I’m an asshole, remember?”

She laughed lightly, and then the waitress came over. Rey ordered three scrambled eggs with sausage, wheat toast, hash browns and a side of blueberry pancakes. He smirked at her as she ordered and, as though accepting a challenge, proceeded to order a denver omelette with a side of bacon, corned beef hash, rye toast and a belgian waffle with strawberries. The waitress eyed them warily and asked,

“You two training for a marathon or something?”

Smiling at her, Rey replied, “Not at the moment. Could I also have a glass of cranberry juice?”

“Sure,” the girl replied before turning to Ben, “More coffee?”

“Please,” Ben replied, still grinning at Rey while the waitress topped him off.

Once the waitress was gone, Ben shook his head and chided, “Am I gonna have to roll you out of here?”

“Like the blueberry girl from Willy Wonka?” she asked, and he frowned.

“Never saw it.”

She sighed and teased, “You’re the worst. But anyway, you didn’t exactly go light on the ordering yourself.”

“I’m going to work. You’re going back to bed.”

Rey was a breath away from saying something about needing his strength, but stopped herself just in time as she remembered - with a strange pit in her stomach - what his work activity actually involved. She felt the tension ratchet up a bit in the space between them and she could swear he was thinking along the same lines by the faintly flustered look on his face, but they were saved from having to face the tension head-on as the waitress came back with Rey’s juice.

“Your food will be up in just a minute!” she chirped, and Rey exhaled a ‘thank you’.

Ben cleared his throat and asked, “So, what’s the rest of your day look like? Now that I ruined your plan for lazing around in bed until noon?”

She smiled and shook her head, glad for the subject change, and replied, “I’m actually working this afternoon.”

“Lunch shift?”

“No, actually,” she corrected, frowning at her juice, “I picked up a shift at Plutt’s. Technically I quit months ago, but...well, money’s money, and he’s been harassing me about coming back to finish a couple of projects for him. Repairs for the shop, that kind of thing.”

“Harassing you?” he repeated, his eyes narrowing, “Why can’t he hire a fucking handyman and leave you alone?”

She waved his objection away, not wanting their delightfully unexpected breakfast to descend into complaining about Unkar, and said, “He thinks I owe him, that’s all. I don’t take him seriously, I just want the extra income.”

“Owe him? For what?”

“Giving me the job,” she shrugged, twirling her straw in her juice, “He’s a blob. It’s fine. Anyway, it’s only a couple of hours worth of work, and sometimes he lets me take stuff home that he thinks is beyond fixing. In other words, beyond selling. It’s how I got the antique radio that’s in my kitchen.”

He blinked, then replied quietly, “I’ve never been to your apartment.”

She stared, taken aback as she realized it was true - he’d never seen her home. It seemed hard to believe, somehow, but now that she thought about it…

Their food arrived at that moment, and there was barely room on the table for all the dishes. They stared at the bounty before them, their orders having gotten intermingled as the waitress had struggled to fit all the plates, and then up at each other.

They both grinned, and Ben suggested, “Should we just...share everything?”

“Yep,” she agreed, and as she dug in she commented, “Anyway - it’s beautiful.”

He stilled and asked, “Your sausage?”

“Well, that just sounds improper.”

“It would be, if you really were talking about your sausage. But I’m guessing that’s not what you meant.”

“No,” she giggled, taking a bite of said sausage and explaining with her mouth full, “My 1941 model 249W Sentinel tube radio. I rescued it from the bowels of Plutt’s and lovingly restored every last bit until I could actually turn it on and the Bakelite finish was shining.”

He paused in the process of filling his plate, gazing at her with soft eyes as she went on about her prize.

“It seems silly, considering how desperate I am to make an extra dollar where I can, because I know it would probably be worth something on eBay or whatever but - I just don’t think I could bear to sell it. As it is, I had to convince Plutt that it wasn’t a collector’s item in order to convince him to let me take it home. I guess I’ll answer for that one when I get to the pearly gates, yeah?”

She was pouring syrup over her pancakes and glanced up when he didn’t respond.

She knew he wasn’t holding his secrets inside anymore, as of the other night. It meant he could afford to be just a bit less guarded, she supposed, considering she already knew how he really felt and he didn’t have to worry about giving anything away and potentially scaring her away.

Even knowing all this, the expression of uncensored adoration that he now wore on his face as he looked at her sent a shiver up her spine that was so intense it almost made her drop the syrup dispenser in her lap.

 _And wouldn’t that have made these pajama bottoms even more ridiculous,_ she thought inanely, unable to form a coherent thought as she stared back into his coffee-colored eyes.

The waitress once again came to her rescue, popping back to see if they needed anything else. They both responded in the negative, and she went away, leaving Rey to try and overcome the tightness in her throat and the spinning of her head by saying the first thing that came to her.

“I just...really love that bloody radio. You should come over to check it out sometime.”

 _Smooth,_ she thought, stopping short of rolling her eyes.

“You want me to come over to meet your radio?” he asked wryly, and she blushed.

“I mean - no, obviously not _just_ that. We could play cards, maybe? Or…”

“I’d love to,” he interrupted gently, then shifted in his seat, his lips working as he frowned down at his plate and added, “I’d better start shoveling. I said I didn’t care if I was late, but there are limits…”

“You won’t hear me arguing,” she agreed, barely intelligible around a mouthful of eggs.

He smiled slightly and murmured, “I see that.”

 

~~

 

Not six full hours later, she was wiping sweat from her brow as she worked on fixing the neon ‘Repairs While U Wait’ sign at Plutt’s when she got a text.

**_Radio visitation and cards tonight? Or have you had enough of me for one day?_ **

Rey’s insides tingled happily as she typed back,

_Sounds perfect. I’m home at about 6._

**_See you at 6:05._ **

If Rey could have seen herself, she would have been embarrassed at the soft smile that played around her lips as she responded.

_Can’t wait. This day has been total shit since we finished breakfast._

His response was almost immediate.

**_Ditto._ **

 

~~

 

He set his phone down, willing his heart to stop racing. Nothing had changed.

He had to make himself remember that and keep remembering it. He couldn’t afford to fuck this up.

He needed this.

With everyone else in place, Hux called action and the scene started. Ben followed the script and Hux’s direction mechanically, his mind a million miles away. He stripped his shirt off and stepped out of his pants before crawling over his costar and kissing her. Her breath tasted like mustard - what the hell had she eaten for lunch? He _hated_ mustard.

She moaned as he reached down to test her - she was barely damp, but they didn’t have any leeway left for foreplay. Hux had been very clear that he needed to wrap early for a meeting with Snoke. Luckily, that also meant he wasn’t in a picky mood and just let them play the scene as scripted.

Thirty minutes later, he was practically jogging to his car, his gym bag slung over his shoulder. Throwing the bag in the car and pulling his phone out of his pocket, he found a two messages waiting. One from Rey...

_Chinese?_

...and the other from Snoke.

_Be at my office in one hour._

He frowned and stood there for a long time, staring at the screen. Finally, he made a decision. He responded to one of the messages - and willfully ignored the other.

**_Order from Century Dragon and use my name. We’ll get free eggrolls._ **

Without allowing himself a second thought, he turned off his phone and threw it in the back seat as he started the car.

He’d stop on the way to get the wine she liked.

 

~~

 

Rey was just paying the delivery man when Ben came walking up to her building clutching a bottle of wine in his hand, his long hair still damp and curling around his neck from his usual post-work shower. She had to admit to herself that she was buzzing a little bit, excited to see him again in spite of just having had breakfast with him that morning. It was nice, his solid presence in her life.

It was nice to have _any_ solid presence in her life. Besides Finn, it wasn't a feeling she was used to - she wasn't sure she ever would be.

He glanced down and took note of the two bulging bags full of food, raising an eyebrow.

“Shut it,” she muttered, glancing down as well, “I wanted to make sure there’d be enough.”

“For an army?” he quipped, reaching out to take the bags.

She raised a brow - that was another thing. Having let go of the constant pressure of tiptoeing around her, he’d reverted to being able to give her shit a lot more often. She was starting to see flashes of the arsehole she’d originally met mixed in with the sweet, quiet man she’d come to know since.

To be honest, she was glad for it.

“You’ve seen me eat,” she retorted, then slapped at his reaching hand and turned to head inside as she insisted, “I’ve got it.”

He tried again to reach for the bags, protesting, “Just give me _one_ of them.”

“They’re not heavy,” she lied, leading the way up the creaky stairs.

“Fine, but I feel like an asshole.”

“You should be used to it.”

“Wow,” he drawled, right behind her as she reached the landing, “Ouch.”

She looked up to make sure he was smiling, which he was - so fondly that it made her fumble with her key. He laughed, then, a deep rumble that somehow still sounded to Rey’s ears like it had been underused for a long time - and now she was blushing.

They got inside and she promptly set the food down on her tiny kitchen island as he looked around at her living space.

“It’s adorable,” he said, and she blinked at him.

“Are you being sarcastic?”

He spun back around to face her, looking honestly surprised, and replied, “No?”

“Oh,” she said, “Well...thanks.”

“I’m serious,” he reiterated, “It feels very...you.”

“It certainly feels a lot smaller that usual with you in here,” she quipped, “Has anyone ever told you you’re massive?”

He glanced over at her, somewhat sharply, and she felt her face heat as she caught up to her unintentional double-entendre. Not least of all because they both knew she'd seen... _it,_ before.Thankfully, he let it slide as he walked over to take in the sight of the food she was still taking out of the bags.

“Rey, Jesus,” he groused in earnest now, frowning as he shoved his hands in his pockets and watched as she pulled out container after container, “We could have split the bill, you know.”

“You bought breakfast, I bought dinner. We’re even.”

“Yeah, but…”

“I had a coupon, too,” she interrupted him, “Twenty percent off of any order over thirty dollars. But they actually didn't give us free eggrolls, even though I dropped your name.”

“They didn’t? That’s odd...usually when they hear ‘Kylo Ren’...”

She looked up at him as she exclaimed, “Oh! That’s why, then - I used ‘Ben Solo’.”

He stared at her for a second, then gave a self-deprecating huff and admitted, “Yeah, I guess that would be why. You’re the only one who calls me that. Except for my mother, I guess.”

“Well, I ordered some anyway, so...” she murmured, flustered for some reason, and then turned and swept her hand at her counter, “Oh, speaking of names, let me do the big introduction - Ben, this is Sentinel. Sentinel, Ben.”

He smiled and gave her a side-eye as he walked over to look at her prized little radio, his footsteps heavy on her run-down pine floors.

“Can I touch it?”

She nodded, “Sure - but break it and you’re toast.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

He inspected the radio as she got their dinner set up, asking questions here and there about what the refurbishing process entailed. He turned it on briefly, then back off, and she couldn’t help beaming a little with pride at his genuine interest - she’d always been proud of that little Sentinel, and it was always nice to have a labor of love appreciated.

That thought made her stop suddenly, a nebulous idea forming, but before she could think too much about it he turned to face her.

“It’s amazing,” he said, tipping his head at the radio, “You made it look brand new.”

“Thanks,” she replied, flushing a little, and handed him a pair of chopsticks, “Here, dig in. Let’s eat before we play so we don’t get the cards all messy.”

“Worried I’ll covertly mark the aces with garlic sauce?” he asked, his warm brown eyes twinkling as he swiped the beef with broccoli.

“No, I’m worried _I_ will,” she smiled, taking the chicken with peapods.

He looked at her pensively for a quiet minute before asking, “I remember you telling me you never ate anything but ramen and peanut butter. What made you decide it was okay to splurge a little sometimes?”

He gestured to the spread with his chopsticks as he spoke, and she shrugged, feeling suddenly self-conscious.

“Well...you, actually.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. After you said I shouldn’t be afraid to buy a stupid gallon of ice cream every once in awhile, I’ve been reevaluating a lot of these strict rules I’ve set for myself and how I need to live my life. I guess I just started wondering if I was being too hard on myself.”

His hand stilled on the way to his mouth but he quickly recovered, replying, “Glad I could help. You deserve to treat yourself.”

In the end, they had an absolutely lovely night.

They demolished the food in record time, not even bothering to sit down to eat, content to stand around her island and help themselves to everything. It was so easy, she’d thought to herself as he reached out and grabbed the container of sweet and sour pork she’d been about to set down right out of her hand, to just _be_ with him. Even after their conversation at Maz’s - maybe even more so, now, than before.

After they were finished, he sat on her sofa and she sat cross-legged on the other side of her coffee table while they played every card game they knew well into the early hours of the morning. She taught him pinochle, he taught her Texas hold’em and they finished the night off with a few very intense rounds of crazy eights.

Somewhere in the middle, he glanced over at her and gave her a tender half-smile before reaching out and swiping at her cheek with his thumb. He licked it off before murmuring,

“Mustard.”

She shuddered, then hoped he hadn’t noticed.

What the fuck was wrong with her?

The question played at the back of her mind through the rest of the evening, and then followed her to bed that night as she ran her fingers over her cheek where he’d touched her and thought to herself that her little flat suddenly seemed emptier than it ever had before.

 

~~

 

When her Gestalt moment finally came two weeks later, she was sitting in her flat, drinking wine with Poe Dameron.

She’d been lounging with a glass and reading a book when he’d come up looking for his cat. He said that he hadn’t seen BB in a couple of days and just wanted to make sure that he was with Rey and not under the wheels of a car somewhere. She confirmed that the little feline chunker was lazing on her sofa, and Poe had eyed the open wine bottle on her coffee table and teasingly apologized for interrupting her cat-date.

She’d rolled her eyes, invited him to have a glass before going back down to his own place and he’d accepted, joking that they could finally sit down and discuss cat custody.

They chatted for a good hour, and it was...nice. He was a great conversationalist - easy to talk to, energetic and charming. They ended up finishing the bottle she’d opened, and he’d gone down to get another and bring it up.

Rey didn’t think anything of any of it...until he kissed her.

She was stunned. It was brief, gentle, and when he pulled back he brought his hand up to brush some hair away from her face where it had fallen out of her messy bun. He looked at her, she looked at him - and when he leaned in again for another kiss, Rey burst into tears.

“Whoa,” he intoned, his eyes going wide as he leaned back to give her space, “This is new...”

“I’m sorry,” she sputtered, half-drunk and miserable because it should have felt great to be kissed and she had always thought Poe was so bloody attractive but instead it had just made her want to sink into a black vortex and cease to exist, “I’m such a bloody idiot…”

“Whoa, whoa...Rey,” he soothed, and somehow his hand on her knee didn’t feel sexual at all now, “It’s okay, don’t worry about it. _I’m_ sorry, I guess I got my signals crossed.”

She reached up to scrub her eyes with her hand, sniffling pathetically and trying her best not to break into true sobs. She was so confused, and all she knew was that when he’d kissed her, the only thought that had been roaring through her head was that she didn’t want him.

She didn’t want _him_.

“No, it’s my fault,” she said haltingly, completely drowning in her own emotions in a way that she rarely did, “And now I’m feeling sorry for myself when you’re the one who should be cross.”

“I’m not...uh, cross. That means mad, right? I’m not. I’m really not.”

“Okay,” she replied, not quite believing him. He must have sensed that, because he sighed and said,

“Rey, come on. What’s with the tears? Tell me, and maybe I can help.”

She shook her head, but then when she finally did meet his eyes, he looked so sincere and so open to listening that she broke down and whispered out loud, for the first time, the truth she’d been fighting against so desperately.

“I think I’ve accidentally fallen for someone. Not...not you. Someone else.”

“Okay,” Poe encouraged, his brow furrowed, “And that’s a bad thing?”

“I - I don’t know. He’s...not really available…”

He gave her a look of sympathy and asked, “Ah. So...married? Or he has a girlfriend?”

“No, no...nothing like that,” she explained dejectedly, “He isn’t involved with anyone. Actually, he told me he loved _me_ first.”

She could tell that Poe was trying very hard to follow her tale of woe in a non-judgmental way but was struggling to identify the problem. Grabbing up her wine and squeezing her eyes shut so she wouldn’t have to see his reaction, she blurted into her glass,

“He’s a porn star.”

The silence that followed was deafening, and she drained her glass.

“Like...a legit porn star?”

“Yes.”

Another silence, and then he quipped, “Okay, well. I mean...ah, shit, this really _is_ a new one for me.”

She groaned, and he quickly pulled himself back together and went on, “Sorry, I just didn’t expect... _that_. I mean, I can see how that would make a sane girl want to run screaming into the Hollywood hills, but…”

“But?” she interrupted, her frustration she felt at the untenable situation bubbling up suddenly and overriding the heartache, “There is no _‘but’!_  I’m pretty sure - no, I _am_ sure - that I’m in love with a man who spends his workday shagging the shit out of other women!”

“Rey…”

“Should I pencil myself in to only sleep with him on his days off, or should I be okay with getting sloppy seconds once he’s showered and brushed his teeth? Explain how that would work, please, because I don’t see how it could!”

“Rey, calm down,” Poe demanded, holding up his hands, “I get it, okay? Everything you’re saying is valid, it really is. I just...look, I sleep around.”

“No kidding,” Rey replied flatly, shooting him a sardonic look, “That’s how I ended up with your poor, neglected cat.”

He smirked and shook his head before he continued, “My point is, a lot of people have a knack for separating sex and intimacy. They’re in totally separate buckets.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not one of those people,” Rey protested, “I see where you’re going with this, I just...I don’t think I’d be able to compartmentalize on that level.”

“Maybe not,” Poe conceded, “But...I think maybe you should be having this conversation with him instead of me. You never know what he might be willing to do, if he feels the same way. I’m a firm believer in the idea that if things are gonna work out, they will - but you have to do the work and set yourself up for it sometimes.”

Sadly, Rey slumped back and shook her head, “It’s not that simple. It’s...there’s more to it than that, stuff going on with his boss, and...I just don’t think he feels like he can change anything, at least not right now. And anyway, who am I to give ultimatums? I _can’t_ , Poe.”

Poe regarded her for a long moment, then sighed and picked up the wine bottle, finishing it off by pouring them each one more glass.

“I just feel like stuff like this doesn’t happen every day. You should at least try.”

“Stuff like what?”

He smiled, a hint of sadness lingering around the edges of it, as he replied, “Love, kid. Also, sorry about the kiss. I didn’t know it’d trigger an existential crisis.”

Rey stared at him for a moment, realizing suddenly that she had just poured her heart out to him and she barely knew him. Pressing her lips together, she raised her glass to him and he obediently clinked it with his own.

“What are we toasting to?” he asked, and she shrugged, giving him a watery, thankful smile of her own as she replied,

“To the break you’re going to start giving me on my rent, now that we’re friends.”

His eyes twinkled and as he lifted his glass to his lips, he retorted, “Not a chance, but nice try.”

~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the restaurants mentioned are actually real places, although I've never eaten at any because I'm from Chicago, not LA. If anyone ever does, please leave a review in the comments. ;)
> 
> Actually, it occurs to me that I have Rey and Ben doing a lot of eating in this fic as a whole. I guess I just like to feed Rey. Plus it's sort of my headcanon that Ben would get a kick out of watching her shovel food into her face, so...meals it is! But I may have to tone it down lol...
> 
> Also, this is Rey's radio:
> 
> https://www.radio-cafe.net/OBSCURE_1941_SENTINEL_lava_Marbled_Bakelite_Radio_Model_249W/p5232699_18943113.aspx


	11. If You Can't Change the Wind, Adjust the Sails

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I replied to some of the more specific comments on the last chapter, but don't feel bad if I didn't get to yours. I wish I had time to respond to all of you, because each and every comment is like taking a sip of the most delicious hot chocolate - I read every single one and love them, thank you all SO much.
> 
> This chapter is a bit long because I've dilly-dallied enough and need to start getting into some heavy plot-related things. Getting onto the home stretch - maybe they'll even kiss soon. ;) Hey, when I say slow burn, I mean SLOW BURN! Anyway, hope you all enjoy this one.

The crisp fall air of New England had chased most of the bugs away, and it was the perfect time of year to conduct business - or just sit pensively - on the front porch. The lantern on the small table that had been left by the previous owners of the cottage provided enough of a glow that the words on the application in front of him were  _ just  _ legible with the help of a good pair of reading glasses - although Luke Skywalker had long-since stopped reading and was now frowning into the distance, deep in thought.

Sighing, he set down the essay he’d just pored over and once again picked up the note that had been sent along with the manila envelope. It was hastily scribbled in elegant writing on the letterhead of Princeton University’s well-respected - and extremely presumptuous and intrusive, Luke thought grumpily - president.

 

_ I know you aren’t active anymore, but I insist you read this one. Professor Ukegbu delivered it to me himself in hopes that I could get it to you. You’ll thank me, especially since I went ahead and printed everything out for you. Maybe one day you’ll relent and get a PC, you dinosaur. _

_ Let’s get lunch soon, _

_ Amilyn _

 

Luke sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and picking up his mug of tea. Taking a sip, he eyeballed the stack of papers on the table next to him.

He’d grudgingly read the submission solely based on his sense of duty when it came to Amilyn - she’d convinced the Board that he didn’t need to be physically present at meetings unless they directly pertained to the English department, and he owed her. 

A fact which she seemed determined to capitalize on at every possible opportunity.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t deny that the application was compelling - perhaps the most compelling he’d ever seen, although it had been years since trudging through admission applications had been part of his job. He was an Emeritus now, and a grumpy one - he helped when he had to, and he still made financial and intellectual contributions to the school, but he had long since limited his involvement. 

He just wasn’t into it the way he used to be.

This application, however - the statement of purpose was clear and impactful, the references were flawless and the critical writing sample was nothing short of astonishing. It was difficult to make something that seemed so perfunctory compelling, but this applicant had accomplished it with flying colors - so much so that Luke read it twice, all thirty-one pages of it. 

Above all, the applicant’s passion shone through - their eagerness, their spark - and this was what had undoubtedly swayed Ukegbu, and then Holdo, to send the packet on to him.

However, it was this obvious passion that gave Luke pause, because...he’d been there, done that. He didn’t know if he was up for that kind of enthusiasm, that level of fire and ambition.

He was tired.

Sighing, he picked up his phone and dialed Amilyn’s number. She picked up on the second ring and he winced - he’d been hoping for voicemail.

“Did you read it?” she asked, without preamble.

“Yeah, just finished it.”

“And?”   


“And, what?” Luke asked gruffly, “You don’t need me to tell you what to do, you run the place. You want to admit her, admit her.”

“We only admit around ten students each year to the PhD program, Luke…”

“Okay, so - you’ve only got nine to go. Congratulations.”

He heard Holdo sigh on the other end and leaned back in his chair, preparing for the inevitable onslaught.

“I never ask you for your opinion on applications - you know that. This one’s different, though. We’re thinking of granting a fellowship, provided the candidate does well in the interview process. Her transcripts are astounding, her writing submissions - well, you read them.”

Luke let out a breath and scratched his beard, “The submissions were pretty surprising, I’ll give you that. She has a commanding grasp of language - she almost wields it like a weapon. But I actually didn’t look at the transcripts.”

“Grew up abroad, came to the US to attend college and stayed. I don’t think she’s here illegally, but…”

“Oh, great.”

“Let me handle that part. She only graduated from her undergrad program nine months ago, so it’s probably fine. The point is, she’s almost definitely getting admitted to the PhD program, and we’re seriously considering a fellowship, but…”

Holdo trailed off - which wasn’t like her, and it made Luke antsy.

“But what?”

“I’d like you to serve as her academic advisor.”

“No.”

“Just listen…”

“I don’t do that anymore, Amilyn. I have no idea what the university’s requirements…”

“Will you not interrupt me, please?” Holdo snapped, effectively shutting Luke up. He knew she hated being interrupted - in fact, had gotten where she was by basically refusing to be interrupted. It was one of the reasons he respected her, even if he was sometimes the offender. 

“Sorry. Go on,” he muttered.

“I want you to serve as her advisor,” she repeated, pointedly, “And I’d like  _ you  _ to conduct her admissions interview.”

He almost hung up.

“Are you done?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Because, no.”

“Look,” she pushed, obviously not even close to letting this go, “Ukegbu hasn’t seen a candidate this promising in years, and she obviously has an iron-clad aspiration to teach at a high level one day. These are the kinds of people that we want, Luke - they might work for us one day, which is good for the University. I’m not asking you to be her Mr. Miyagi or anything…”

Luke snorted, in spite of himself. She went on, a hint of a smile in her voice, 

“I’m just asking you to take an interest. That’s all. You’ve been out of the game for far too long, anyway.”

“Who says I ever intended to get back in the game at all? It’s called retirement, Am. I barely even put shoes on anymore.”

“Come on.”

“Seriously. I’m sitting outside in my socks right now.”

“Good for you. Now, come on - please?”

He let the conversation lapse into silence for a long, charged moment. As if sensing weakness, she added,

“You always said that you wanted what was best for the University, above all. Even after...everything. Didn’t you?”

Another pause, and then Luke sighed, “I’ll agree to the interview, but that’s it. I’ll think about the rest of it in the meantime, assuming she accepts the offer.”

“Why wouldn’t she?”

“Who knows,” he quipped, “Maybe she’ll decide to go to Harvard instead.”

“I’m hanging up now,” Holdo griped, “And...thanks.”

“I wish I could say it’s my pleasure. I’ll leave it at ‘you’re welcome’.”

“Good enough.”

After they ended the call, Luke sighed and picked up the writing sample to skim it one more time, wondering what the hell he’d just gotten himself into.

  
  


~~

  
  


Ben walked into Snoke’s office with his head up, even though he knew he was about to be torn apart for ignoring his summons the other night. He’d managed to avoid him altogether for a whole day, but inevitably was cornered by Hux on set and told to get his ass downtown as soon as possible because Snoke was ‘extremely displeased’.

Already not thrilled with the idea of being summoned like a wayward dog, the sight of the back of Hux’s orange head when he walked in didn’t do anything to improve Ben’s mood. The other man seemed to have concluded his business with Snoke, however, sneering as he left.

Ben fucking hated him.

“Sit,” Snoke commanded coldly, and Ben obeyed mechanically. Steepling his fingers in front of his withered mouth and staring at Ben with ice in his blue eyes, Snoke finally asked,

“Have you lost your phone?”

“No.”

“In that case, have you lost your mind?”

Ben exhaled through his nose and dropped his eyes to stare at the varnished top of Snoke’s cherry wood desk. He didn’t bother to answer - it was a rhetorical question. He was more than familiar with the way Snoke spoke to him when he was angry.

Leaning forward in his leather chair, Snoke went on, “I’m struggling to find a reason to continue providing you with opportunities, Kylo Ren, as you seem so intent on batting them away. Did you not see my text the other day, instructing you to meet me here?”

Ben thought about lying, but quickly gave up on the idea. Snoke could always tell, somehow.

“Yes, I saw it.”

“And you chose to ignore it?”

He barely managed to stop his lip from curling up in a half-smile as he recalled what he’d done with his evening instead, and replied, “I had a prior engagement.”

There was a long, chilling silence that followed, and Ben wouldn’t look Snoke in the eye. He didn’t want to be there, and he didn’t know how much longer he could keep his temper in control. Was he not allowed to have his own life? His own plans?

“A prior engagement,” Snoke finally repeated, then stood and seemingly changed the subject as he mused, “Young Ben Solo. When I discovered you, I saw what all mentors live to see - raw, unadulterated talent. That, plus the promise of your bloodline, convinced me to take you under my wing in the hope that you would one day achieve greatness.”

Ben braced himself, knowing what was coming. This wasn’t the first time he’d heard a version of this speech, and it wouldn’t be the last.

“I’ve given everything I have to you,” he murmured, his fists clenched, “To my writing…”

“Sadly,” Snoke interrupted, “There is a strong streak of mediocrity that taints your potential, one that I cannot seem to eradicate. Perhaps you should have followed in your father’s footsteps instead of your grandfather’s, and wasted your life the way you spent your childhood - under rust-ridden cars in a dingy garage.”

“Han Solo is dead,” Ben hissed, finally looking up and meeting his mentor’s gaze, “Those memories mean nothing to me anymore.”

“And still, here you sit - unbalanced and uninspired. I’ve wasted six years trying to wring even the smallest drop of worthwhile content from you, and you’ve given me nothing but drivel in return! You’ve  _ failed.” _

Ben was on his feet before he could think, Snoke’s voice echoing through his head, his rage at the goading just barely overpowering the soul-crushing shame. Snoke was old, but stronger and quicker than he looked - he seized Ben’s jaw in his bony fingers and shoved him back into his chair with a heavy thud.

“Sit down!” he snarled, “I’m not finished!”

Breathing heavily, Ben clutched the arms of the chair - uncomfortable, of course, because Snoke would never want anybody unfortunate enough to have a personal audience with him to be at ease. He closed his eyes and tried to think of something else, anything else, to distract himself from his very real urge to slam his fist into Snoke’s gnarled face.

He ended up thinking of Rey and her little antique radio. He imagined her tinkering with it, polishing it. He recalled the look of pride on her face when she’d told him about it, and how she’d beamed at him when he’d praised her for a job well done.

It did the trick, and he was able to get a grip on his temper as Snoke continued berating him.

“Furthermore, perhaps you’d be so kind as to explain why you’ve apparently been underperforming at the only thing for which you’ve ever been useful to me, which is showing up on set and doing your job there?

“What do you mean?” Ben asked flatly, mechanically, and Snoke’s lip curled.

“Hux tells me you’ve been late for your call times, unable to finish scenes, unable to even  _ start  _ them half the time…”

“This isn’t what I want to be doing,” he insisted, meeting Snoke’s eyes once again, burning with resentment, “You’ve always known that. That it’s a means to an end. I can’t be expected to just…”

“These problems are recent,” Snoke interrupted sharply, sneering, “You’ve never had an issue with your erection before - at least, not in a professional setting. I can’t speak to your personal success or failure in that area - but perhaps we’re finally circling the true problem?”

Ben froze. Snoke was dangerously close to the truth, but not in the way he assumed. 

“I can’t have anything like that in my life,” he replied, keeping his tone as neutral as he possibly could, “You know as well as I do that it’s not feasible.”

“I am aware of the sacrifices you’ve made in order to pursue your dreams, Kylo Ren,” Snoke agreed, his voice dripping with false sympathy, “I just wonder if  _ you’ve  _ somehow forgotten. Considering the girl you’ve been seeing over the past several months.”

Ben’s head shot up, and at the look of dark triumph on Snoke’s face, Ben knew that his reaction had told him all he needed to know.

“Both Hux and Miss Phasma have caught glimpses, so don’t bother denying her existence. Phasma even sent me a very heartwarming picture of you two on a park bench - she’s very unlike the women you’re  _ accustomed  _ to, isn’t she?”

“If you’re talking about Rey…”

“Is that her name?” Snoke asked mildly.

_ Shit.  _

“She’s a friend,” Ben insisted, then added spitefully, “I  _ am  _ allowed those, aren’t I?”

“Of course,” Snoke purred, “Provided you can find someone who is  _ interested  _ in maintaining a friendship with you, which is another thing you’ve failed at since you were a child.”

Ben shouldn’t have felt anything, should have been long numb to the sting that came from that old and overused barb. It was nothing he hadn’t been hearing his whole life, and he should be used to it.

Yet, for some reason, it cut him deeply - and then Snoke drove the knife in further.

“Nothing’s changed, it seems,” he murmured, his voice lapsing into cloying sympathy once again, “You’re still just a child pretending to be something he’s not.” 

  
  


~~

  
  


_ I need to see Rey, _ Ben thought as he sped down the freeway, flirting with the very real possibility of getting pulled over and having his license suspended.

The rebuke from Snoke had gone on for another twenty minutes after he’d exposed Rey as the source of his recent lack of consistency, transitioning from his shipshod performance on set to the topic of his ever-disappointing rewrites and finally to some rather gratuitous criticism of his mother. 

He was sweating, shaking, practically boiling over with rage and shame and - he just needed Rey. He needed to be taken out of his head, to be reminded that he did have something  _ else  _ in his life. Something good, something separate from the rest of the shitshow. He needed her to laugh at his jokes and to remind him that he wasn’t a worthless fucking fraud. At least, not to her.

He veered off the freeway at her exit, already heading for her building even before he got the response to his text. When it finally came through, he was only two blocks away.

_ I’m not working, and a drive sounds great. When? _

He pulled up to the curb, incapable of even feeling embarrassed when he responded,

**_I’m here. In front._ **

Instead of replying, she simply came out. The sight of her approaching his car in her torn jeans and what looked like a Harry Potter t-shirt had him exhaling with poorly-concealed relief.

She got into the car, smiling, but her smile faded as they looked at each other.

“What’s wrong?” she demanded gently, her brows snapping together as she took in his expression.

“Nothing.”

It hung in the air between them until she prompted, “Ben...tell me.”

He swallowed, then shook his head and said simply, “Had a meeting with Snoke.”

She seemed to get it right away, her face clouding over with anger on his behalf. It twisted his heart into a pretzel, that she would be upset for him, and it made him want to just drop the whole thing. Quickly, before he went with his other instinct, which was to spill his guts to her.

He’d done enough of that lately. He gripped the gear stick, just about to shift into first and pull away from the curb, when she said abruptly,

“I have to ask you something.”

At her tone, Ben froze.

“Okay?”

She turned to look at him, her eyes roaming his face with an expression he couldn’t read, and then she blurted out breathlessly, “Can I read your play?”

He blinked a couple of times, her hazel eyes regarding him fiercely. Swallowing past the sudden constriction in his throat, he rasped,

“What?”

“Your play,” she insisted, clutching her bag on her lap and refusing to relinquish his gaze, “The one you’ve been working on since...forever. I’d like to read it.”

Every cell in his body revolted at the thought, and before he could measure his response, he frowned and bit out, “No. It’s shit.”

“Don’t say that. I’m sure it’s not,” she protested, but he was quickly spiraling. Not in anger or resentment, but in panic.

“You can’t know what it is or isn’t,” he snapped, his grip on the wheel now white-knuckled as he violently threw the car into gear, “Drop it, please. It’s not happening.”

They lapsed into a horribly tense silence, Rey turning to stare out her window and Ben trying desperately to focus on the road and not on the fact that somehow his night had gotten even more fucked up than it was before. 

She couldn’t be allowed read it. If she hadn’t lost all respect for him after his pathetic bout of word-vomit at Maz’s, she  _ definitely  _ would after discovering he was also a talentless hack. 

She couldn’t be let into that part of his life. He had to keep her, and their relationship, separate from everything else. It was the only way he could possibly try and prevent this from getting ruined, just like everything else.

It was too important to him.  _ She  _ was too important. 

“Ben,” she intoned quietly after a few minutes, “Can you at least tell me why not?”

“I can’t believe you’d even  _ ask  _ me that,” he hissed, refusing to look at her, “When I told you before that the piece is fucking garbage and an  _ embarrassment… _ ”

“No, you said  _ Snoke  _ thinks it’s garbage,” she argued, and he finally glanced at her - she was so fucking beautiful in her self-righteous fury that he was sorely tempted to just give her whatever the hell she wanted no matter how scared he was, “I don’t give a flying fuck what Snoke thinks, and at this point, you shouldn’t either.”

“He’s my editor,” he clipped.

“He’s a bloody  _ crook  _ and you need a second opinion!” she practically screeched, and after a moment of silence, she murmured almost to herself, “You have to see that.”

His chest felt tight. He was definitely going to hit something when he got home, he already knew it. He could feel it rising in him again, the rage - directed at himself, because he should just shut up and be grateful that she was interested.

But he didn’t  _ want  _ to know her opinion on his work. He couldn’t bear to hear the all too familiar condemnation and criticism coming out of her mouth that he’d been hearing from the beginning. It all stung, and kept stinging - like a swarm of bees that were permanently stuck in his head and would attack if he stirred them up again.

His father.  _ Where do you even come up with this stuff, kid? It’s pretty twisted. _

His mother.  _ Why don’t you take a break from writing and clear your head? Maybe new ideas will flow and you can write something a bit more...polished. _

His fucking uncle.  _ You’re too emotional, Ben. It’s crippling your ability to craft a cohesive narrative, and I can’t help you anymore. _

Snoke.  _ This is nothing short of a disgrace to your grandfather’s memory. _

Some things didn’t change, no matter how far you ran from your roots.

“Rey,” he said, going for any tone other than outright begging but not quite succeeding, “I’m sorry. I’m being an asshole, I know, but please just drop it. I  _ can’t  _ let you read it. I’m telling you, it’s shit, and it would humiliate the fuck out of me to have anyone other than Snoke look at it. Especially you.”

He saw her turn to look at him out of the corner of his eye as she repeated, “Especially me?”

He knew she wasn’t being purposefully obtuse, but there was no way he was going to state the obvious out loud and tell her that her good opinion was the only one in the entire goddamn galaxy he cared about having because he was fucking head over heels for her. Besides, thanks to his reckless stupidity mixed with a few cold beers and a shot of Jameson, she already knew that. Instead, he simply said,

“You know the difference between good prose and stuff that’s mediocre. You’ve studied it. It’s how we connected, all those months ago.”

“Ben…”

“That play - I don’t even recognize it anymore, it’s been torn apart and pieced back together so many times. I’m not proud of it, and if it weren’t for Snoke I’d have trashed it by now. I can’t stand the idea of you reading it.”

She seemed to soften, then replied softly, “Okay. I understand.”

He inhaled deeply, glancing over to meet her eyes as he said, “Thank you.”

There was a pause, then she tentatively quipped, “Even if I  _ would  _ be interested to see if you curse as much when you write as you do when you talk.”

“Yeah, actually,” he admitted, his own lips curling, “I swear when I’m frustrated, and I’m always frustrated when I write. There’s so much cursing in there your eyeballs would burn. So, yeah, there’s another reason you shouldn’t touch it.”

She chuckled, then - bless her warm little heart - changed the subject completely.

“Alright, well, you can drive us wherever you want, but I get to pick the music.”

He watched as she pulled out her phone and went about connecting it to the bluetooth on his car, and smiled in spite of his lingering mood.

“Fine. But I get veto rights.”

  
  


~~

  
  


She and Finn were in her flat, doing their usual pizza and a film Friday when things began to get complicated. Or, rather, even more complicated than they already were.

The knock on her door startled them both.

“You expecting someone else?” Finn asked, and she shook her head as she dragged herself off the couch.

“No - maybe it’s Rose? Did you invite her?”

“Nah, she’s out of town at some tech-nerd conference.”

“Maybe it’s my landlord,” she frowned, padding across the small room in socked feet. When she got to the door, she pulled it open to reveal a very hesitant-looking Ben Solo. She blinked up at him, flustered both at his sudden appearance and at how good he looked in his dark blue t-shirt and jeans. He was holding what looked like a binder in one large hand.

“Hey,” he ventured, “The, um...the door downstairs was propped open, so…”

“Uh, hi,” she replied, sounding winded even to her own ears, “Yeah, the lock’s broken. Poe broke his key in it the other day, so…”

“I changed my mind.”

Before she could say anything, he thrust the binder at her, his eyes intense as they watched her face carefully.  She took it, opened it up, and it took a few seconds of scanning before she realized that it was a handwritten copy of his play. She turned it over almost reverently, and then smiled up at him. He cleared his throat and shifted from one foot to the other.

“It’s an old version, obviously, from before Snoke ever touched it,” he explained, his voice rough, “I don’t know why I kept it, but...I want you to read it. The original. This - none of this version is Snoke’s. This is me.”

She swallowed, overcome, and simply whispered, “Okay.”

He turned red to the tips of his ears and muttered, “I’m sorry I flipped out the other night. This is - extremely hard for me. I...”

Finn chose that moment to call out to her.

“Did you want me to press pause? Who is it?”

Ben looked stricken as he glanced behind her into her place, unable to see Finn but aware now that she had company. The blood drained from his face and she saw his fists clench in his pockets. Rey realized that he probably thought she had a man over. 

Well, she supposed that technically she did. Just not...like  _ that _ . 

“Rey?”

She was panicking. Rey knew that it would probably be unbearably awkward if he were to join them, but she much preferred that over him leaving there thinking she was on a date or something.

“Wanna come in?” she asked quickly, her heart hammering. 

“Uh...no,” he rasped, swallowing convulsively, “I’ll go.”

“It’s just Finn,” she blurted, impulsively reaching out and grabbing his elbow, “Come on, there’s pizza and beer. We’re watching...um…”

To her horror, she realized that she didn’t even know what the hell they’d been watching because she’d been so wrapped up in her own thoughts - mostly of him - that she had barely paid attention.

“Rey?” Finn called again, and she could hear the springs in her old oversized chair creak as he stood up.

“Yeah, we’re coming!” she called back, and gave Ben an encouraging nod, “Yeah?”

He didn’t answer, his jaw set and his expression beyond uncomfortable, but he did let her pull him inside. Finn, who had by now realized who was at the door, kept his face carefully blank as he walked over to them, and when Rey ducked behind Ben to shut the front door, she shot him a death glare over Ben’s shoulder. No easy feat, considering her head barely cleared his shoulders.

_ Behave _ , she mouthed to Finn, and he pressed his lips together and then smiled at Ben and held out his hand.

It was so strained it looked demented.

“Kylo. Hey, man. Good to ah...see you.”

For a split-second, Rey thought Ben wasn’t going to take his hand, but he finally acquiesced. Both of them stood ramrod straight, Finn’s smile looking more deranged by the minute and Ben scowling slightly in return.

And Rey...couldn’t help it. She snorted, loudly. 

Both men turned to eye her warily.

Finn asked, “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just...nothing.”

She barely got the sentence out before she dissolved into a laughing fit. By the time she got herself under control, she found her mood had apparently been contagious. Finn was smiling naturally now and shaking his head at her, and Ben…

She drew a breath at the look Ben was giving her. Like she was made of sunshine and he was basking in it. It made her want to melt into a puddle right there on the floor. She was literally hugging his manuscript to her chest, beaming at him, overjoyed that he had decided to allow her to read it. He noticed, his eyes flickering down to where she clutched it and back up to her face.

“What?” she asked softly, and he shook his head, a smile playing around his lips as he replied just as softly,

“Nothing.”

They stared at each other for a second too long, and Finn huffed.

“Well, I need another beer. Rey?”

“No, thanks,” she replied, still slightly dazed as she and Ben continued to look at each other, “Ben?”

He hesitated for a long moment before deciding.

“Sure. Why not?”

  
  


~~

  
  


It wasn’t the  _ most  _ relaxed evening she’d ever spent in her own flat, but by the end of the movie most of the tension had dwindled and the three of them were chatting relatively comfortably. Rey was simply enjoying the idea of having these two men, who were both so important to her, in the same room and actually being quite civil as they debated the film’s ending.

“What do you think?” Finn eventually asked Rey, leaning heavily back in his chair after being thoroughly run in mental circles from arguing with Ben.

She smiled, leaning forward and grabbing up the last slice of pizza before replying, “Either of you want this?”

“Have at it,” Finn waved, at the same time Ben replied,

“It’s yours.”

She took a big bite and said around a mouthful of cheese and pepperoni, “I think Leo is getting more handsome as he ages.”

“That’s your idea of constructive criticism?” Ben asked with a frown as Finn rolled his eyes, “I think I regret trusting you with my brain child.”

“Brain child?” Finn repeated, confused. Ben immediately looked like he was sorry he mentioned it.

“His play,” Rey clarified, swallowing, “I’m reading it.”

“What play? You mean you  _ wrote  _ a play?”

“A long time ago,” Ben mumbled, picking at the label on his empty beer bottle.

Finn seemed surprised, then said, “Wow, man. That’s awesome. I had no idea you were into writing.”

Ben glanced up as though expecting to find that Finn was messing with him. When he found him to be completely sincere, his brow furrowed.

“How would you have known? I think this is the first time we’ve had an actual conversation.”

Finn shrugged, finishing the last sip of his own beer before retorting, “You mean, one that doesn’t amount to you yelling obscenities and me trying not to club you with the mic?”

Ben glared for a moment, and Rey held her breath - and then, miraculously, Ben smiled. It looked more like a grimace, actually, but it was something.

“Sorry,” he replied quietly, “I don’t particularly enjoy my job. Puts me in a bad mood.”

Finn’s eyebrows shot up and he looked like he was about to say something wildly inappropriate - so Rey grabbed a discarded crust from the box and chucked it at his head. 

He dodged it and exclaimed, “Hey!”

“I’m tired and I’m working tomorrow, so it’s bedtime for me,” she declared, rising to her feet and grabbing up the empty pizza box and looking pointedly at Finn, “Would you collect the empty bottles while I get rid of this, please?”

“Isn’t that your job?” Finn asked, scowling, “You’re the one who works in a bar.”

“Do it, or I’m getting anchovies next week.”

Finn made a face and started picking up bottles as he replied, “Ugh, literally no one on the planet likes anchovies but you.”

Rey smirked as Finn strode to her small kitchenette to drop the bottles in the recycling bin. Ben, who had shot to his feet along with her, reached for the pizza box. She shooed him away with a small smile, so he shoved his hands in his pockets.

“If you’re ready for bed, I’ll go,” Ben murmured, “Thanks for inviting me in.”

“You mean, for basically forcing you to come in?” she corrected, her eyes twinkling, “Anytime.”

He nodded, then glanced at Finn as he walked back into the room and said perfunctorily, “Have a good night.”

Finn gave a small wave and replied, “Yeah, you too, man. You should join us again sometime. This is a weekly thing. Sometimes I invite my girlfriend, too.”

Nodding noncommittally, Ben simply turned to Rey and rumbled, “Yeah, maybe.”

She walked him to the door and when he turned back to glance over his shoulder at her before going down the stairs, she added quickly, “If you want to come visit me at work tomorrow, there’s free gumbo in it for you.”

He smiled and replied, “Then I’ll definitely see you tomorrow.”

Rey stood at the door for a minute after hearing the front door of the building close after him. Shutting her door, she turned to find Finn eyeing her carefully before he blew out a breath and said,

“He’s head over heels in love with you, you know.”

She swallowed past the lump in her throat and replied, “I know.”

Pinning her with his gaze, Finn guessed, “And the feeling’s mutual. Isn’t it?”

Rey’s lack of response told Finn everything she needed to know. Sighing and scrubbing his face, he said,

“Okay. I think I finally get it, but...what do you say to one more beer before I go? ”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, we have an incoming Luke. 
> 
> I hope you guys like where this is going - slowly but surely, lol. Thanks again for all the kudos and comments, you are all the greatest.


	12. Pillow Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, gosh. I'm so sorry for the delay (over a month?? Get it together, EJ!). I'm still not sure I'm 100% happy with this chapter, but it was past time to get something posted. I hope you guys enjoy it anyway, a lot of emotions flying around. Also, this is where the fic starts to earn its rating...just to warn you.
> 
> Real talk, though: I have no idea what goes into getting a play published or performed, or what comes first etc. I tried to do some research but I just ran out of time, so if anyone has any insight on that, please send me a message on Tumblr or something and I can add some dashes of realistic-ness to this part of it.
> 
> Also, I have NOT mentally mapped out Ben's play or what it's about. I've got a general idea of tone and stuff, but nothing concrete - again, just no time, so I'm going to have them discussing it in general terms and then you guys can go ahead and imagine whatever you want about the piece itself. Hopefully that works.

Rey had only meant to start on it. Just so that she’d have something to talk with him about when he came into the bar the following evening for his promised visit.

She hadn’t meant to become so completely enraptured with the story within the first two pages. Or to fall in love with the characters so ridiculously fast. Or to stay up all night long until she finished it - and then read it through again.

Not only that, she made notes. Long, handwritten notes containing critique, praise, insights that she’d written on separate bits of paper and stuck in between the pages so that she wouldn’t ruin his draft.

She hoped they’d help him, because the fact of the matter was that his play was one of the most brilliant things she’d ever had the privilege of reading. She’d been shaking when she finished it. 

Her intuition was telling her beyond a shadow of a doubt that the portrayal of his protagonist - or, really, his anti-hero - was at least a partial reflection of his mental and emotional state when he wrote it. Tortured, languishing in isolation that was both self-imposed and not, his battle against the slide into madness had been as heart-wrenching to follow as it was thrilling.

Rey found herself longing to know how closely Ben still related to him.

Vibrating with excitement as her bedroom began to lighten in the early hours of morning, she grabbed up her phone and sent him a text. 

_ Meet me for coffee? _

She set it down, preparing to get up and at least take a shower before heading out this time, she was stopped just before she could get to the bathroom by the ping of her phone. Frowning in surprise, she went back and looked at it.

_ Where? _

A smile playing at her lips, she typed out her response.

_ Your call. Why are you up? _

His reply was almost immediate.

_ Anything but Starbucks. Their black coffee sucks. Why are YOU up? _

Laughing to herself, she answered quickly.

_ Black coffee = boring. I’ll meet you at Caroline’s at 8. _

She didn’t bother to wait for a response before rushing off to her shower, only slightly chagrined at how excited she was to see him.

 

~~

 

He was already there when she arrived, waiting outside the little cafe with his hands in his pockets, the breeze whipping his thick sable hair around his face. Rey felt her heart stutter at the sight of him, noticing all over again how bloody handsome he was.

As he glanced up and caught sight of her, she couldn’t help breaking into a huge grin. He blinked, looking slightly taken aback before reaching out with one long arm to pull the door open for her. She breathed a quick greeting as she walked in ahead of him, noticing as she passed that he smelled of leather and something spicy - not strong enough to be cologne, so probably his deodorant.

The thought felt strangely intimate, and she blushed as she walked up to the counter with him looming right behind her.

“Hi, what can I get you?” the teen behind the counter chirped, and Rey didn’t miss the way her eyes flickered over Ben’s form as she spoke.

“I’ll take a tea with lemon, please. English breakfast. And a banana nut muffin.”

She heard Ben snort behind her before he muttered, “You’re a walking, talking cliche.”

“What’s wrong with tea?”

“I thought you said we were meeting for coffee.”

“Well, I changed my mind. So? You can still get coffee, no one’s stopping you,” she retorted, digging in her bag for her wallet.

“Normal people drink tea when they want to go to sleep, Rey,” he teased, leaning forward and handing the girl a twenty before Rey could protest and instructing, “I’ve got hers, and I’ll just have black coffee. Whatever’s your largest size.”

“First of all, people don’t drink English breakfast at night - it’s got almost as much caffeine as a cup of coffee,” Rey huffed as the barista counted out his change, and then blinked when the girl suddenly decided to force her way into the conversation.

“Actually, it’s got about half of the caffeine that a cup of coffee does,” she piped up, “In milligrams.”

Rey stared at her, and the way Ben shifted on his feet beside her told her that he was trying not to laugh. Scowling slightly at the girl, she simply said, 

“Oh...right. Good to know.”

“Mm-hmm!” the girl - her name tag said Tally - hummed in response, flashing a smile at Ben. Rey rolled her eyes and turned to find him ignoring poor Tally, his twinkling eyes fixed on her, as she went on,

“And secondly, you’re the worst.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I was going to treat  _ you!” _ she replied, looking up at him reproachfully, “This was my idea, after all…”

“Forget it,” he dismissed her, taking his change from a now disappointed-looking Tally, “I ate your pizza and drank your beer last night, so we’re even.”

“It was half Finn’s.”

He shot her a look and replied, “You can save half your muffin for him, then.”

They walked to a table by the window after Tally told them she’d bring everything out when it was ready. The place wasn’t crowded, probably because everyone else was still sleeping off their Friday night hangovers. They had barely been sitting for a minute when Ben asked,

“So, why the sudden, urgent need for breakfast tea - or whatever you called it - at six in the morning?”

“It’s eight.”

“Yeah, but you texted me at six. So, what’s up?”

Instead of responding right away, she bit her lip and reached into her bag to pull out his play. His eyes landed on it and he immediately stiffened, then huffed out a nervous laugh.

“You already change your mind about wanting to read it? Nine hours would be a record.”

Leaning forward, she pinned him with her eyes and made sure he didn’t look away before she responded decisively, “No, actually, I’m already finished. I stayed up all night reading it, twice, because this play is nothing short of genius.”

He couldn’t have looked more stunned if she’d slapped him. After a long moment, he swallowed again - hard - and let out a self-deprecating laugh.

“You don’t have to say that, Rey...”

“I’m serious,” she cut him off, slapping the binder on the table with a thunk and drumming her fingers excitedly on the cover, “It’s...God, I have so many thoughts I don’t even know where to start. I mean, you’ll see, I stuck notes in everywhere…”

He blinked slowly, brow furrowed as his eyes slid down to look at the binder with its colored tabs sticking out everywhere, and he looked like he suddenly wanted to turn tail and run. As if he was so unused to praise on the subject of his writing that he didn’t know what to do except flinch away from it.

“You - you wrote notes?”

Rey, feeling suddenly self-conscious, quickly explained, “I mean, you don’t have to read or use them or anything, but I had to get my thoughts out as I read it through for the second time. Just things that came to me in the moment. We can talk about it…”

As she rambled, he dragged his thumb over the dozens of tabs as though he was in a trance, then slowly opened to the first note before closing it again and setting his huge hand on top of it.

“Anyway,” she murmured, pausing briefly as the barista set their drinks down and asked if they needed anything else before leaving them alone again, “I’ve never read anything like it, Ben. It was unbelievably complex, with some of the most compelling characters I’ve ever met. And then the gut-punch of an ending - I don’t know what I expected, especially from an early draft, but I was  _ completely  _ blown away. I loved it.”

Slowly, cautiously, he asked, “You didn’t think it was fucked up?”

“No!” she returned adamantly, “Not at all. It’s deliciously macabre, with dark humor in exactly the right places to lighten it up, but not too much - no, on the contrary, I think the tone is  _ fantastic _ . The people who told you that obviously didn’t know what the hell they were talking about.”

Finally, he looked back up at her - and her heart broke into a million pieces as she realized that he had tears in his eyes. 

“Ben?” she whispered, reaching out to gently cover his hand with hers. He immediately turned his wrist so that their hands were palm to palm, his fingertips gently grazing her skin. His full lips quivered as he drew a deep breath, then managed a choked,

“Thank you.”

He stared at her for a long, charged moment. Her breath hitched, and it seemed to snap him out of the haze that had come over him. He cleared his throat and blinked rapidly, grasping his coffee with his free hand, his jaw working as he struggled to pull himself back together. She decided to come to his aid with some levity and said casually,

“I should warn you, though, that if I ever run into your boss on the street I might claw his face off.”

He winced and replied, “You’re probably not the first person to feel that way, judging by how his face looks.”

“Ben,” she said seriously, demanding his attention, and when he met her gaze she declared, “You need to cut ties with him.”

“Rey…”

“I just mean when it comes to your writing,” she amended quickly, not wanting to push him too far when he was still reeling from their conversation, “It’s been years and you’ve gotten nowhere with him as your editor. He’s obviously not the man for the job.”

He hesitated for only a second, then nodded resolutely.  

“I know. I’ve known it for a long time, I just...I guess I just don’t know where else to go. I felt trapped.”

He laced his fingers through hers as he idly paged through her notes, skimming them. She shuddered at the wave of contentment - and other things - that were flowing through her at the contact. She drew a breath, trying to focus, and asked, 

“And how do you feel now?”

He looked up at her, a ghost of a smile on his face, and replied, “Hopeful. Finally.”

She nodded, “Good. So, first we polish this up -  _ this  _ draft and not the one that’s been ripped apart. Then we start arranging for some staged readings so you get a feel for how it flows when it’s performed...”

He stared at her, wide-eyed, and repeated, “We?”

She went crimson for the fifth time since they sat down and shrugged, “I believe in this, Ben. I’ll  _ help  _ you.”

Once again, he was looking at her as though she held his heart in the palm of her hand - and maybe she did. She squeezed his fingers, and he squeezed hers back.

“When do we start?” he asked, a small smile curling his lip.

“You’re still coming to visit me at work later, right?”

“If you want me to.”

“Good - it should be a slow night, so we’ll start then. Read my notes before you come, see what you think, and we can chat while I stock the bar.”

His eyes were warm, almost molten, as he replied softly, “Yes, ma’am.”

 

~~

  
  


Ben practically sprinted home. 

He’d sort of rushed through the rest of his coffee and only told her a half-truth when he’d explained why - he  _ did  _ want to get started on reading her notes, but it was also because he was afraid if he stayed there even a minute longer, he’d lose control of himself and do something irrevocably stupid.

Like haul her over the table and kiss her.

He’d  _ wanted  _ to kiss her. Which wasn’t new, but today - hearing her praise his work, tell him that it was brilliant - he’d been consumed by the kind of fire he spent every single day on set faking, but had never felt in reality. Not like this.

He’d wanted to do more than just kiss her - he’d wanted to drag her out of that cafe, pull her into the nearest alley and devour her until they were both panting, sweaty messes. He’d wanted to beg her to come back to his place so that he could worship her, show her as best he could how much he fucking  _ adored  _ her.

No one had ever said things like that about his writing before. Not ever.

By the time he got home, he’d replayed the conversation in his head over and over. He slammed his front door behind him, the thump of his back slumping against it echoing through his empty condo.

“Fuck,” he muttered, palming himself through his jeans. He was fully hard, pulsing - just from listening to her say words that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with him.

He’d never felt so fucking turned on in his entire life.

Gingerly, he set his draft down on the small table next to the door along with his keys. He pushed the twinge of guilt away as he proceeded to do something he’d never allowed himself to do before - he unbuckled his belt and pulled his erection out of his pants as he clung to the thought of  _ her _ .

He didn’t have to picture her naked. He didn’t have to use any of the go-to fantasies he’d had to use before to get himself off while he was working. He barely even had to stroke himself.

All he had to do was remember her face, her words, as he closed his eyes and tightened his fist around his dick. Her dimples as she grinned across the table at him, her sparkling hazel eyes, her small hand in his...

_ “I’ll help you.” _

That was all it took. He let out a guttural grunt as he came harder than he’d ever come in his life, thick ropes of white spurting all over the polished wood floor, coating his hand and ruining his shirt. He fought to keep himself from collapsing as he caught his breath afterwards, then peeled his eyes open and surveyed the damage.

Rey’s voice drifted through his mind one more time.

_ “If I ever run into your boss on the street, I might claw his face off.” _

Ben smirked at the thought of Rey attacking Snoke as he stared at the mess he made.

“That’s a better money shot than you ever got out of me, you piece of shit,” he muttered to the Snoke in his mind’s eye, then pulled his shirt off and used it to clean up before tossing it away and grabbing up his draft, flipping to the first note and starting to read before he even got to his couch.

  
  


~~

  
  


He never made good on his promise to visit, but at least he texted her.

_ Hey, ok if I just call you later? Still working through your notes and don’t want to stop. _

Instead of being disappointed, Rey found herself ecstatic. She’d hoped that the notes would be useful to him, and apparently they were. It made her feel a bit less silly - as the day had dragged on, she’d found herself feeling embarrassed about her enthusiasm. Maybe she’d overdone it, dragging him out of bed in the early hours on a day when she knew he didn’t have to be at work.

He hadn’t seemed put out, but - well, he rarely did when it came to her. So it was with relief that she typed back,

_ Are you making notes on MY notes? _

_ Yes, I am. _

She smirked and responded,

_ Loser. _

She followed this with an emoji to take the edge off, and he sent her back an emoji flipping her off. She laughed, and her phone pinged again.

_ Do you want me to come? I know I’m standing you up. _

_ No! Keep working if you’re inspired! _

His response, when it came an hour or so later, made her spirits soar so high she grinned like an idiot for the entire rest of her shift.

_ Thanks to you. I’ll call you when I’m finished. _

He hadn’t called by the time she got home, but she wasn’t worried about it. She left him be, wanting him to ride the wave of inspiration for as long as possible, and exhaustedly crawled into bed without even bothering to take the buns out of her hair.

She was soon jolted awake at the ringing of her phone, cursing and blinking away the lingering vestiges of the dream that had just started as she scrambled to grab it in the dark. The screen promptly told her that it was two in the morning, and that it was Ben calling. Quickly, she answered.

“Ben?”

“Hey!” he greeted, sounding out of breath.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing? I told you I’d - oh, shit, sorry. I didn’t realize it was so late.”

“You mean early?” she teased, falling back onto her pillow and scrubbing her hand across her face, “It’s morning, technically.”

“ _ Shit _ . I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she waved a hand at nothing in particular, as if he could see her, “I actually only just fell asleep about twenty minutes ago. I didn’t get home until close to one.”

There was a silence on the other end, and he finally muttered, “That makes it even worse.”

“No, not really,” she argued, even though it absolutely did, “So, what’s up?”

“I - wanted to talk through your notes. I read them all, and…”

“Did you?” she replied excitedly, sitting up again and feeling suddenly awake, “What did you think, anything useful?”

“Oh, hell yeah,” he said, his enthusiasm palpable even through the phone, “I mean, I’m calling you in the middle of the night to talk about them, so what does that tell you?”

“Well, to be fair, you didn’t  _ know  _ it was the middle of the night when you called.”

“Again,” he drawled, “Worse.”

“Isn’t it great when other people prove your point for you?”

“Yeah, it’s why I keep you around. That, and gumbo.”

“Right, of course. Gumbo.”

“And for your brilliant, insightful notes on my stuff.”

“Yeah, but that’s new, so...mostly gumbo, up to this point.”

“You got me.”

If it was possible to hear someone smile, they’d both be getting an earful in that moment.

“It was my pleasure,” she told him, “Really. Thanks for letting me read it. I know it was difficult for you to give it up.”

He was silent for a long moment before admitting, “I’m glad I did, Rey. No one’s ever responded to my work like this - even Snoke just took it from me, fucked with it and then gave it back all marked up. You wanting to talk through it, writing notes, telling me it’s worth working on - it means  _ everything  _ to me.”

To her slight surprise, she found herself getting misty as he spoke. She wasn’t normally a particularly emotional person, but damned if he didn’t bring out that side of her.

“Whatever you need, Ben. I meant it when I said it was brilliant.”

He was silent for a long moment.

“Rey, I…”

Her heart leapt into her throat as she sat up in bed, holding her breath. When he didn’t go on, she prompted gently, “What?”

He hesitated for a moment longer before he sighed and asked, “Do you ever feel like you met someone too late?”

Rey frowned, settling back onto her pillow, and asked softly, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, like you should have known someone much earlier in your life, but you didn’t and it feels like you wasted years doing the wrong shit before they showed up?” he paused, then murmured, “I just wish I’d met you sooner. Then maybe I’d be a different person, would have made different choices…”

He trailed off, and Rey responded, “I like the person you are just fine, so I’m afraid I have to disagree. Besides, I think we meet people exactly when we’re meant to - if the whole ‘fate’ concept is actually a thing. I’m sort of torn on that one.”

“I’m not,” he said abruptly, and rather forcefully, “I’ve always believed in it. And I believe in it more now than I ever have.”

Her stomach felt like it was full of butterflies. Swallowing past her nerves, she replied,

“Like I said, I suppose some things do feel like they were meant to happen.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, “Like some force was drawing you to a moment, or a...a person. A decision, maybe. Whatever it is, it ends up being something that was always going to completely change your life when you finally ran into it.”

The conversation was going deeper than she’d expected it to for such an ungodly hour, and she wasn’t entirely sure she had the wits to handle it. Giggling uncomfortably, she quipped,

“That’s very esoteric, Ben. You should write for Doctor Who.”

“First you order tea instead of coffee, and now you’re mentioning Doctor Who. When do I get to hear you sing ‘God Save the Queen’?”

Her laugh was genuine now as she responded, “Maybe we can go to a karaoke bar this weekend. But if I do ‘God Save the Queen’, you have to sing something by Nickelback.”

“I’d rather fucking die.”

She cackled, listening to his answering chortle on the other end, and said, “I had a feeling.”

After a moment, their laughter died down. He was silent for so long that she started to worry that the call had been dropped, and then finally he spoke.

“I know how this is gonna make me sound and I don’t want to make you feel weird, but I just want you to know that I…” he stopped, then seemed to struggle at trying to find the right words before he settled on, “That you’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

They both knew that that wasn’t what he had wanted to say, but Rey took it for what it was worth. Which was a lot, in her book.

“You really mean that?”

He huffed, “You’ve seen how easily I get along with people - does it surprise you?”

She laughed and snuggled further into her blankets as she replied, “I guess not. In any case, thanks...it means a lot to me, to hear you say that.”

They were quiet for a minute, and then he said, “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“I’m not. I actually do like talking to you.”

“You do?” his voice was a rumble, clearly pleased at her little admission.

“You didn’t know? I think I spend more time talking to you these days than Finn, and we were practically roommates.”

“I want to feel bad for him, but...I don’t. I’m a selfish person.”

Rey shook her head and asked lightly, “Why are you always so negative when you talk about yourself? To hear you talk, Ben Solo is a bloody monster.”

“I guess I just want to manage people’s expectations.”

“Well, I wish you’d stop. With me, at least.”

“Does it bother you?”

“It just doesn’t work,” she replied honestly, “I already know you, and I know you’re actually a softie.”

“A softie?” he repeated, sounding affronted.

“You know you are,” she teased, “Come on. You’re constantly putting others first. You’re generous, you’re gentle…”

“No, you don’t get it,” he interrupted, his voice serious, “That’s not how I am with everybody. Just you.”

She went still, then asked softly, “And what about everyone else?”

“Fuck ‘em.”

They laughed together, and then she said, “I feel like it’d be wrong for me to be gratified by that.”

“Whether you are or not, that’s how it is. I don’t give a shit about people, Rey. Their expectations, their opinions - I just don’t care. But with you, I - it’s like what I was saying before. This is...something else.”

Another silence - Rey knew that it wasn’t so much for lack of things to say as it was that neither of them wanted to end the call.

“Do you want to grab dinner tomorrow night? Are you working?” he asked, somehow sounding shy even after everything they’d just shared, “I’d still like to talk through your notes, but just - maybe not now, in the middle of the night.”

“The middle of the night is the best time to have deep discussions, you know.”

“Is it?”

“Yep,” she affirmed, “You’re too tired to censor yourself, so everything you say is really genuine.”

“Sounds like what happens after a drink or two, but without the fun of having a buzz.”

“Well, you could always do both. But then you’re  _ really  _ playing with fire.”

“So, what you’re saying is that you want me to make a habit of this? Calling you at all hours of the morning?”

Rey smirked and played with her blanket as she replied, “No, because it’s not the same over the phone.”

“So you’re saying you’d rather I just come over?”

She froze, and then heard him mutter a soft curse before he hastily began to apologize, “That wasn’t - I didn’t mean...”

“You can,” she said without thinking, “If you want to.” 

Suddenly, as quickly as the words left her mouth, the realization crashed over her that she desperately  _ wanted  _ him to take her up on the offer. She had no idea what would happen if he did, but anything was better than him declining, and she bit her lip to shreds as she waited for him to catch up to the conversation.

“Say that again?” 

Exhaling, she repeated, “I said, you can come over if you want.”

She could hear him breathing on the other end, and she felt a little breathless herself. 

“Are you fucking with me?” he snapped suddenly, making her flinch.

“No, I...”

“You know damn well how that sounds, Rey,” he snarled, sounding more furious than she’d ever heard him sound, “And you know how I feel about you, so inviting me over for fucking  _ pillow  _ talk isn’t...”

“I feel the same way.”

She’d barely managed to whisper the words, but they immediately silenced him. 

“What did you just say?” he asked, his voice deeper, more urgent, than she’d ever heard it. Her skin tingled.

Now that it was finally out there, she couldn’t take it back, so she might as well go all in.

“I would never play games with you like that, Ben. I know how you feel, and I’ve realized I - I feel the same way about you. But I still - we need to talk about...”

“No shit, we need to talk," he interrupted, sounding winded, "I’ll be there in twenty. Don't you dare fall asleep.” 

Then he hung up, leaving Rey shrouded in the silence of her flat, holding her dead phone to her ear and unsure of whether she was overjoyed or absolutely terrified.

  
~~  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And...she admitted it. Well almost. Stay tuned for the next chapter, which should come in a more timely manner because it'll be, er...well, it's mostly written. The slow burn is almost over, kids. I just had to sneak ONE last cliffhanger in there...sorry, kind of. :)
> 
> Thanks again for all the comments and kudos, you all make the agonizing over every line worth it!


	13. When One Door Closes, Another Opens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you all dive in, Tumblr user sofondabooks made an absolutely gorgeous little mood board for this fic, which you all can check out [here](http://sofondabooks.tumblr.com/post/178202298474/comfort-zones-modern-au-wip-by-emmyjeanb). 
> 
> Also, I'm proud to say that I responded to ALL of the comments on the last chapter because you guys are the best! I appreciate each and every one so very much. The love this fic has gotten has been astounding, especially since I originally was just going to self-consciously hoard it in my docs forever and never get over myself enough to publish it. I'm SO glad I did.
> 
> Anyway - on to lucky thirteen! Sorry in advance for what ended up being a slight abundance of foul language in this chapter, but it's...well, you'll see.

Rey had the door open before Ben could knock, having heard him bounding up the stairs.

That, and she’d been waiting at the door with her forehead pressed to the wood, trying to calm her nerves. The sight of him filling the doorframe, his hair wild and his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, didn’t help. After a moment, he was unsurprisingly the one who managed to scrounge up enough courage to break the silence.

“I need you to be sure.”

In response, she reached out to grab one of his huge hands and pull him into her flat. Closing the door, her heart feeling like it was going to beat right out of her chest because she hadn’t exactly been completely ready for this moment to come tonight but was determined to see it through now that it had, she turned to face him.

“I’m sure,” she replied, regarding him solemnly, “I’m scared out of my mind, but I’m sure.”

“I’m scared, too,” he confessed, taking a halting step forward, as though he wasn’t sure what to do, “I’m fucking terrified. I keep expecting to wake up on my couch and find out none of this really happened.”

“You want me to pinch you or something?”

The corner of his mouth twitched, his eyes roaming hungrily over her face as he rumbled, “Only if I get to pinch you back.”

Her eyes widened slightly - it was bolder, cheekier, than how he normally teased her and she watched as his eyes widened as well, no doubt afraid he’d fucked up somehow. On the contrary, it was exactly the push Rey needed to stop thinking, stop worrying and just  _ launch _ herself at him.

His breath left his lungs in a huff as she collided with his chest and wrapped her arms around his neck. There was a moment of stunned silence - and then he was crushing her to him, lifting her clean off her feet as he buried his face in the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply.

It made her  _ ache _ .

He laughed - a sort of disbelieving, breathy chuckle - and then began planting languid kisses along her jawline. Chaste and adoring at first, they soon grew passionate and urgent as he worked his way down the column of her throat, as though it was costing him every ounce of willpower to not simply devour her. 

“I can’t believe this is really happening,” he breathed, his mouth moving against her skin.

“I know,” she murmured, carding her fingers through his hair so that he’d lift his head. They stared at each other for a long moment, slightly dazed.

“Can I kiss you?”

Now it was Rey’s turn to laugh as she quipped, “You’d better _ , _ after all that.”

With a soft smile and an exhale, he finally pressed his lips to hers and she breathed a sigh of relief - she hadn’t  _ really  _ realized how much she had been longing for this until that moment. She immediately opened up for him, and his answering groan sending tingles all the way down to the tips of her toes. The kiss quickly grew demanding, the hot slide of his tongue against hers and his teeth nipping her lower lip had her shuddering against him as she buried her hands in his thick hair. His hands tightened where they held onto her thighs and he lurched forward, pressing her against the wall as he continued to plunder her mouth, his breathing ragged and his slight stubble scratching deliciously across her chin.

After what seemed like ages, Ben pulled back and rested his forehead heavily against hers. There was a sheen of perspiration on his brow from the effort of holding back.

“Holy  _ shit _ ,” he panted.

“Yeah,” she agreed, amazed she was even capable of speech.

No one had  _ ever  _ kissed her like that before.

They slowly came back to themselves and then he sighed against her skin, giving her another too-brief graze of his lips before he murmured,

“I should probably go.”

Rey blinked, then leaned back to look at him as she asked, “Why?”

He gently set her down, bringing his hands up to clasp her face as he replied, “Because I don’t want to rush this and fuck it up. My head is spinning, Rey, and I don’t know how to have this kind of relationship with someone and I just...”

Rey could see him wavering as his eyes searched her face, his mouth working the way it always did when he was nervous. And she realized that maybe he wasn’t pumping the brakes for her sake, but for his own. He’d been holding back for so long, had been careful about what he said and did around her for  _ so long -  _ he was overwhelmed. 

Neither of them had an easy time letting people get close, and this was a level of emotional intimacy beyond anything Rey had ever experienced before - she suspected it was the same for him, knowing how he’d grown up.

It was like the connection that had existed between them from the very beginning stretched taut, tightening her chest and making her feel like she could never love another person more than she loved him in that moment. The strength of the feeling took her breath away and suddenly, she felt just as overwhelmed as he did.

“No, I get it,” she said softly, reaching up and stroking his face, “I feel it, too. It sort of feels like drowning - I mean, a good kind of drowning. If  _ that’s  _ even a thing.”

He smiled and turned his head to kiss her palm.

“It is now that we’ve invented it.”

She raised a brow and teased, “I’m pretty sure other people have fallen in love before us.”

His eyes burned suddenly as he repeated, “Love?”

Her brow furrowed and she replied, “Well...yeah? Isn’t that…?”

“You haven’t actually said it,” he rumbled, refusing to relinquish her gaze as he gave her a small nod and demanded gently, “Go on, then.”

Her throat closed up and she panicked for a second - she’d never said those words to anyone before. Not a single soul, not even Finn. Part of her, a part that she suspected would always rebel against the idea of allowing herself to be vulnerable in front of another person, was screaming at her to run.

His eyes, intense and focused on her face, compelled her to stay.

“Say it,” he commanded, a hint of desperation in his voice as he added, “Please.”

She closed her eyes.

“I love you,” she choked, “I…”

Before she could go on, he placed his hands on either side of her neck, tilting her chin up with his thumbs and capturing her lips again.

It was clearly meant to be a tender kiss, but it escalated quickly. Rey fisted her hands in the cotton of his t-shirt as he slipped his hands beneath her pajama top, desperate to feel her bare skin. Their lips met again and again, the tension building each time until finally, pushed to the breaking point, he growled and tore his mouth from hers. Breathing heavily, he tugged her urgently into his arms and held her so tightly she almost couldn’t breathe.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

She could do little more than nod against his chest, his heart racing beneath her ear, and after another long moment he relinquished his hold on her and stepped back, running both hands through his already wild hair.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking wrecked, “I just - I’ve been wanting this for so fucking long, Rey…”

“I know,” she said gently, smiling, and he stared at her for a minute before blurting,

“Will you have dinner with me tomorrow night?”

“Sure,” she said, and then frowned as he gave his head a firm shake, his jaw set.

“No, I mean like - I’m not talking about taco trucks or whatever. I want to take you somewhere nice, where you can order the most expensive fucking thing on the menu and…”

He trailed off as his eyes roamed her face, his throat bobbing before he went on, “There’s a steak place I wanted to take you to, back when I was planning what was supposed to be our second date. It’s always been my favorite place to go for a really nice dinner, and I - can I take you there tomorrow?”

Rey’s heart practically melted at the eager nervousness on his face, the sheer tenderness she felt for the man in front of her overpowering even the cringe as she remembered the way she’d bailed on that date, all those months ago.

“So, you’re asking me on a date?”

“Yes,” he said immediately.

She grinned at him and replied, “And this will still officially be our second date, then?”

He shrugged his broad shoulders, his mouth twitching.

“Better late than never.”

Nodding, she agreed, “That  _ is  _ what they say. In that case, I’d be delighted.”

“And you’re not gonna cancel on me tomorrow at the last minute because your cat is sick or your dishwasher’s broken or something?” he teased, and she squeezed her eyes shut and protested,

“You just  _ had  _ to go there, didn’t you!

He chuckled and stepped closer, his hand coming up to caress her face as he replied gruffly, “You deserved it for making me wait months for a fucking second date.”

She shook her head, smiling, and argued, “You seem pretty happy about how it turned out.”

He swallowed before murmuring, “Euphoric, actually.”

Her smile faded as she gazed up at him, and he leaned down to kiss her once more. They lingered, savoring each other, until he finally pulled back and breathed,

“Okay, I’m going. Goodnight, Rey.”

She blew out a small breath and replied, “See you tomorrow?”

“Seven sharp. Wear a dress.”

“It’s really that posh of a place?”

“Yeah,” he affirmed, then his face split into what was the most positively wolfish grin he’d ever dared to use with her as he added, “Also, I want to see you in a dress.”

She laughed and gave him a shove as he went out the door.

“You’re ridiculous.”

He abruptly spun around and grabbed the door frame, leaning in and murmuring in a voice that was half-triumphant, half-awed, “You’re the one dating me.”

A thrill shot through her, and she planted a firm kiss on his lips as she replied, “Yes, I’m aware. Now get out, or come back in and don’t leave at all.”

He groaned and grabbed the front of her shirt, gently pulling her to him and ducking his head, his eyes on her mouth.

“God, you don’t even know how bad I...okay, alright,” he growled, tearing himself away and backing into the corridor, “I’m going. I need to go dunk my head in ice water and make absolutely sure I’m not high or sleeping or something.”

“I offered to pinch you,” she quipped as he went down the stairs to the front door.

“If you had, I might not have left!” he called back, and she was left staring into her corridor with weak knees, burning cheeks and a very, very light heart.

 

~~

 

Ben had needed more than a cold shower by the time he got back to his place.

The memory of her lips on his, finally - God,  _ finally  _ \- and her body pressed against him was almost more than he could stand. He’d wanted nothing more than to pull her into her bedroom, tear her ridiculously obnoxious pajamas off and taste every square inch of her body, but he couldn’t let himself.

He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he wanted to take it slow. He hadn’t been in a relationship with a woman since college, and he wasn’t even sure that counted. He’d been an overly-emotional, angry little shithead and the girl he’d been dating was no better. It had lasted a year, consisted mostly of shared bitching and mediocre sex, and had fizzled into nothingness by the time he started his senior year. Neither of them had gotten much out of it.

This thing with Rey - it was different. It had changed his life in every possible way, and he wanted to do it right.

Pulling his shirt off as he made his way to the shower, he thought seriously for the first time about where he wanted it to go. He’d never allowed himself even a whisper of a thought about it before, mostly because he’d known that where he wanted it to go and where she wanted it to go - or  _ not  _ go - could never align. 

Everything had changed, now.

He shucked the rest of his clothes and got under the water, the chill seeping into his skin but unable to quell the fire in his gut.

_ She loved him. _

Even thinking it felt like some kind of sacrilege, because he had no idea how someone as incandescent and lovely as Rey could ever fall in love with a sullen, miserable, fucked-up asshole like him.

Well, he used to be miserable. Now he was so fucking happy he thought he might die from it.

Rey had told him she loved him, and now he was standing under a cold shower, trying to bring himself back under control so that he could go to bed and get up for work in the morning - which was the other reason he hadn’t wanted to stay the night with Rey.

In all of the scenarios his brain had desperately tried to supply him with that would have made it okay to give in to what they both obviously wanted - to give himself permission to say ‘fuck it’ and sink himself into her bed and her body with no further ado - he couldn’t get around the fact that in the morning, he’d have to leave her bed and go to that goddamn set.

He didn’t know what the hell he would even  _ say  _ to her as he left.

_ Last night was incredible, Rey. I love you so much. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and spend the day fucking someone else. Don’t worry, I’ll shower again before I pick you up for our date tonight. _

Just the idea of it was enough to drive out the last vestiges of his arousal and excitement, and he growled in frustration as he turned off the tap and snatched up his towel.

One step at a time, he told himself. He knew damn well he couldn’t go on doing what he was doing if he expected Rey to want to be with him - now that he didn’t need Snoke anymore, now that he had Rey helping him with his play, he had nothing tying him to First Order.

He just had to figure out how he was going to do it so that Snoke didn’t sue him for breach of contract. They were in the middle of a production.

One step at a time, he told himself as he crawled into his bed and wished with every cell in his body that it was Rey’s.

~~

 

In retrospect, he should have seen the explosion coming. 

He should have known Snoke would notice that he hadn’t returned the latest edits on the abomination that used to be his play. Should have known that the confrontation they had the other night wasn’t the end of Snoke’s commentary on his relationship with Rey, even if he wasn’t aware that things had shifted in a romantic direction. Yet.

The next day found Ben sitting in his dressing room - still fully dressed, his head in his hands and completely panicking. He couldn’t figure out how he was going to get through even one minute on that set, much less an entire day. 

A knock sounded on the door - this was the third time. Not bothering to raise his head, Ben snapped,

_ “What?” _

Some unfortunate PA spoke through the door - a different one this time. He must have scared the last guy off. This one tried a different, more assertive approach that nevertheless did nothing to make Ben more inclined to walk out that door and face this.

“Mr. Ren? You’re needed on set - they’re all waiting. Five minutes.”

He couldn’t do this, he realized. Even if he somehow managed to detach enough to fuck whoever they had waiting out there, he didn’t know how he would face Rey afterwards. Not knowing how she felt about him, and how he felt about her - not after having held her,  _ tasted  _ her. 

They’d made promises to each other last night. Maybe not in words, but they both knew what it meant. Ben didn’t see how he could shove that aside and share himself intimately - even if it was only his body - with anybody else now.

On top of that, he didn’t  _ want  _ to have sex with anyone else. It wasn’t just a moral issue, or a matter of not wanting to betray Rey. Even if he went out there with every intention of doing his job, he knew damn well that there was no way he was going to be able to get hard.

Usually, he managed to get things done by focusing purely on physical sensation and process. It was as mechanical to him as eating. Getting his rocks off at the end felt good, sure, but only for a couple of minutes and then that was it.

The thought of sex with Rey, on the other hand, was burning him up inside. When he thought about things he wanted to do to her,  _ with  _ her - he was beginning to understand, maybe for the first time, the difference between porn and sex.

He sighed and stood. He knew what he had to do, and it had to be done immediately. 

He had to tell Snoke he was done. No notice, no accomodation for anybody’s inconvenience - he was  _ done _ .

Before he could reach the door, someone knocked on it again - or, rather, they pounded on it.

“Open this door right now, you piece of shit!”

Ben frowned, pulling the door open to reveal Finn on the other side with murder in his eyes. Before Ben could speak, he found himself being backed into the room before Finn slammed the door behind him with a deafening crash.

“What the  _ fuck?” _ Ben spat once he’d overcome his shock, ready to start throwing punches.

Finn pointed at the door, shaking his finger for emphasis, and demanded, “That, out there? That’s some  _ sick  _ shit, Ren.”

Ben’s blood froze.

“What are you talking about?”

“Is this supposed to be some kind of fucked-up inside joke?” Finn asked, his eyes narrowed, “Or is this something you specially ordered to help you get off? Because if you think for one second that I won’t tell Rey, you’re...”

At the mention of Rey, Ben’s temper flared and he stepped right up into Finn’s face to snarl, “I’ll only ask one more time - what the  _ fuck  _ are you talking about?”

Finn frowned and asked, “You didn’t see it? Your co-star...the set? It’s...”

“I haven’t been out there yet,” Ben interrupted, “Why? What’s…”

“You need to just go out and look, and then maybe you can explain it to  _ me,”  _ Finn said, his voice flat now, looking a bit stunned at the realization that Ben genuinely didn’t know what was going on, “Because, frankly, I’m lost.”

Without another word, Ben brushed past him and took off for the set. As he came around the corner, he was met with the jarring sight of Snoke himself standing in the shadows on the periphery of the set. Hux was standing next to him, a strange smile on his face.

He could feel Finn right on his heels, breathing heavily. Ben crossed the distance to Snoke, his brow furrowed, and was about to ask why he was there when his gaze was drawn to the set, and to the woman he assumed was supposed to be his costar for the day. 

The blood left his face as he looked at her, his hands balling into tight fists.

The scene was a diner set-up, which he’d known from reading the drivel they called a script.

The woman, though - she was a young brunette, thin except for her breasts. She was wearing torn jeans, chucks, a tight t-shirt that left little to the imagination, a waitress apron around her hips, and her hair was done up in three buns down the back of her head.

She was also wearing a large name tag that clearly said “Rey” in curvy purple letters.

A red haze fell over Ben’s vision and he rounded on the first person he saw, which was Hux, grabbing him by the collar and shoving him back into the brick wall so hard that he knocked the wind out of him.

“What the  _ fuck  _ is this?” he snarled, watching as Hux’s face turned red, his airway partially crushed by Ben’s knuckles.

“Oh, this wasn’t Hux’s idea,” came Snoke’s voice, silky and taunting, “I handpicked your new costar, and her rather unique ensemble.”

Ben cast his eyes to the side, unwilling to relinquish Hux as he watched Snoke approach him with a look of twisted glee on his face. Undaunted by Ben’s violent outburst, Snoke went on,

“I had Phasma do some research into the object of your little infatuation, and then I paid a visit to her - shall we say,  _ quaint  _ \- place of employment. I wanted to peruse what they had on offer, and I must say that I found myself decidedly unimpressed.”

“You  _ went  _ to Maz’s Place?” Ben growled, and Snoke laughed lightly.

“Unfortunately. But I left with an advantage - having seen the girl for myself, I was able to recreate her, albeit with a few upgrades. So you now have the opportunity to fuck this foolishness out of your system while still upholding your end of our contract, and then we can all move on as if none of this happened.”

Shaking with repressed fury, Ben didn’t speak, gradually loosening his grip on Hux’s shirt as Snoke’s words sunk in. He might have turned around and simply walked out, since there was clearly no other option open to Ben, if Snoke hadn’t opened his mouth again. 

“You should really be thanking me - I even made sure she was primed for you. Hux filmed her in a couple of scenes last night, with a stand-in for you, of course. It was a very good dress rehearsal. In fact, the results were so exceptional that we uploaded them to the free network as a bit of a teaser for the upcoming feature.”

Ben stared, and Snoke raised a brow and finished,

“They’ve already garnered a considerable number of hits. Not to mention several registered users wondering if “Rey” has done any other work...imagine if I let slip on the comment threads that the real Rey is a scrawny chit with no tits who works in a dive bar off of Alameda...”

It was the last thing Snoke managed to say before Ben broke his jaw.

Or...tried to, anyway. Before his strike could land, just as Snoke’s blue eyes widened and his twisted mouth went slack as he realized that Ben was violently turning on him, Ben felt strong hands grab his arm, stopping its forward motion.

“No, don’t!” 

The voice - and the hands - belonged to Finn.

Ben grunted, trying to shake him off, but the other man had hooked his other arm around Ben’s chest from behind and was pulling him back, his voice in his ear as he said,

“It’s not worth going to jail for, man! Just walk away!”

Ben rounded on him, breathing heavily, and the set around them was so silent, so unbearably tense, that a pin dropping would have sounded like a thunderclap. It was as if everyone was holding their breath, waiting to see how this debacle would end.

“Walk away?” Ben repeated, his voice dangerously quiet, “After the stunt they just pulled?”

“Yeah,” Finn confirmed, his dark eyes steady and self-assured, “Because screw them. Go get your stuff and let’s go.”

Ben stared at him, wavering - he still wanted to hurt Snoke. Not just for Rey, for what he’d said and done, but for himself. 

For everything he’d sacrificed, only to end up with nothing to show for it except six miserable,  _ wasted  _ years.

Finn seemed to sense his indecision, and added in mock cheerfulness as he regarded Snoke, “Yep, in fact - I quit, too. Consider this my two-minute notice, and even  _ that’s  _ longer than I’d like it to be.”

To Ben’s own shock, he uncharacteristically followed Finn’s lead.  Turning and casting one last withering glance at Snoke, and then at Hux - who were both watching him with narrowed and slightly shell-shocked eyes, as though they hadn’t expected him to actually quit - he strode off to his dressing room to grab his stuff.

“I’ll  _ ruin  _ you, Ren!” Snoke threatened at his retreating form, “You’re in breach of contract! I will sue you for very penny I gave you while I slaved for free on that steaming pile of absolute rubbish that you call a play!”

“Go ahead, try it,” Ben said over his shoulder, “And I  _ earned  _ that money, so you can shove your threats up your ass."

He shoved the studio door open so hard it crashed into the bricks outside and headed for his car, only to find Finn standing next to it. They shared a look that could only be described as commiserating, and finally Finn spoke.

“Meet me at McGaffer’s in twenty. I’ll get the first round.”

Ben hesitated for only a second before nodding tiredly, “Sure.”

  
  


~~

  
  


Finn had just ordered his beer when Ben walked in. He dropped into the stool beside him, ordered one for himself and then scrubbed his hands down his face as he muttered, “Shit. I can’t believe I almost decked him.”

“I can’t believe I stopped you, because I  _ really  _ wanted to see you do it.”

The bartender came back with their beers - they hadn’t gone to Maz’s, having joined in a sort of silent agreement that it wasn’t the best idea. 

“He’s about eighty years old. If you hadn’t been there, I would definitely have fucked him up - maybe even killed him,” Ben mused darkly, tapping his fingers on his glass.

“Yeah,” Finn confirmed, “You would have gone to jail, no question.”

“I guess this is when I should thank you for intervening.” 

“Next time I try to punch the crap out of an old dude, you can return the favor.”

“Sounds good,” Ben smiled faintly, then winced as the image of non-Rey popped into his head and ignited his rage all over again just as Finn muttered,

“Seriously, though - what the hell  _ was  _ all that?”

Ben swallowed his beer and cleared his throat before replying, “It was Snoke trying to remind me that he owns me and has control over every aspect of my life.”

Finn eyed him, “Does he?”

“Nope,” Ben pointedly, “Not anymore.”

“Well, then congrats, I guess,” Finn shrugged, then took a sip of his drink before he went on, “Because I knew he could be ruthless, but that - that was  _ next-level _ stuff. Insane. I’ve never been so disgusted in my life.”

“Yeah,” Ben gritted out, signaling the bartender for another, “I should have quit a long time ago.”

There was a lull in the conversation, and then Finn broke the silence. 

“Do you ever sit and just think about things? Like how cool phones are now?”

Frowning, Ben looked over at Finn as the bartender put a fresh round in front of them and grabbed money from the pile in front of them.

“What?”

“Phones,” Finn said again, matter-of-factly, as if he wasn’t completely and abruptly changing the subject with no attempt at a segue whatsoever, “Rose is in tech, you know. IT, I should say. She’s obsessed with phones - makes sure she gets every upgrade, even though I always tell her it’s dumb.”

“Who’s Rose?” Ben blinked, lost and unable to think of anything else to contribute.

“My girlfriend. I haven’t mentioned her? I thought I had, but maybe not. Anyway, Rose never listens to me and always gets us the new phones anyway. Which means my phone right now is pretty sweet.”

“Okay...?”

“Yeah,” Finn said, a smile appearing on the corner of his mouth as he clearly tried too hard to be nonchalant, “For example, the camera is top notch. It takes crystal clear pictures better than a lot of professional-grade cameras.”

Ben glowered, swiftly growing annoyed.

“Good for you.”

“It also takes great video. The audio quality on that, man - it’s something else. Want to see?”

_ “No.” _

“Ah, come on,” Finn cajoled, leaning in and showing Ben his phone, “Like, here...this is something I took recently…”

Ben frowned down at the screen - and set his beer down with a loud thump as he realized he was watching his confrontation with Snoke from Finn’s vantage point.

“You recorded it?”

“Hell yeah, I did,” Finn said, the smile now gone from his face as he stared with hard eyes at his phone, “Because you know what? That bastard stalked my best friend, then used her likeness  _ and  _ her name without her permission in a porno that he then uploaded to a bunch of sites. I’m gonna make sure he pays for this somehow.”

Ben stared at Finn, his admiration for the man suddenly swelling to twice what it was before, and asked, “Can you do that?”

Finn shrugged, pausing the video, and said, “I don’t know, I’ll have to ask a lawyer. But I’m sure as hell gonna try.”

Ben was quiet for a long time, staring at the frozen image of fake-Rey that was on the screen. After picking up his beer and finishing it in one go, he stood to leave - now that he had nothing going on, he wanted to spend the day savoring the anticipation of his date with Rey instead of talking about Snoke. Before he turned to leave, however, he addressed Finn one more time.

“Do me a favor.”

“Yeah?”

“If you do go that route, let me pick up the tab for that lawyer.”

Finn grinned, finished his beer too, and said, “We’ll split it. After all, we’re both unemployed now.”

“Deal.”

  
  


~~

  
  


Rey was just getting back to her flat, having gone out to pick up a few things in preparation for her date with Ben - not to mention parting with forty hard-earned dollars for the first proper bikini wax she’d had in over a year.

That last one had her blushing furiously as she unlocked her door and skittered inside. She wasn’t  _ presuming  _ anything, she just figured it was better to be prepared. 

She couldn’t help wincing a little as she remembered the intrusive thoughts that had skipped through her head as the esthetician had gone to work with the wax. Wondering if Ben would even care one way or the other, having probably seen and felt thousands of women’s bodies. Wondering how she would stack up to the rest of his many experiences - and then the crushing realization that he was probably on set at that very moment, doing…

Growling in frustration, she shoved the thoughts from her mind. 

It was a problem that was only going to get larger the more -  _ involved  _ they got, but it didn’t mean she had to let it ruin her good mood at the knowledge that she was seeing him later, and that he was taking her to a nice restaurant. 

Her phone rang just then, and she sighed in relief for the distraction as she answered, ignoring the fact that she didn’t recognize the number.

“Ms. Niima?”

“Yes?” Rey frowned, not recognizing the voice, either.

“This is Dr. Amylin Holdo. I’m the President of Princeton University.”

Rey’s heart lurched, and she quickly dropped her bags and replied, “Oh - h-hello.”

“Am I catching you at a bad time?”

“No!” Rey practically yelped, then squeezed her eyes shut and willed herself not to act like a complete twat as she added in a more modulated voice, “No, not at all, Dr. Holdo.”

“Oh, good. Well, I won’t keep you long - I normally don’t make these kinds of calls, but I wanted make sure  _ someone  _ reached out to you in a timely manner to tell you that the admissions committee received your application for our graduate program, and we’d like you to fly in for an in-person interview.”

Rey thought she might faint. She’d gotten several acceptance letters from various universities, but  _ Princeton? _ She’d applied there as a long-shot, knowing she probably wouldn’t get in and if she did, she definitely couldn’t afford it unless they gave her some assistance. Which was a rarity. 

Still, she wasn’t about to hang up on the woman.

“An interview?”

“Yes, it’s part of our vetting process. We sent a letter with all the information, but with the way the USPS is these days, you may not have received it yet. When it comes, it’ll have all the details, but basically you’ll be expected to bring in more extensive examples of your work, be prepared to answer questions and all the usual stuff.”

“Right, yes,” Rey quickly affirmed, hopping from one foot to the other as she tried to keep her excitement from her voice, “I, um - how soon would you need me to come?”

“The sooner the better - that way, everyone will know where things stand well before the program start date. Maybe the end of the month? Could you swing that?”

Rey pressed her lips together, then replied, “Would it be alright if I confirm with you in a couple of days?”

“Of course,” Dr. Holdo assured, “You can reach me via email. It’s on the website.”

“Okay - yes, thank you. Thanks very much, I’m thrilled that you called.”

“Well, thank you for considering Princeton,” the woman said warmly, then added as if she’d forgotten, “Oh, and I should also mention that if you’re accepted into the program, we are also considering awarding you a fellowship. Some of the committee was very impressed with your submissions, Ms. Niima.”

Rey sat down heavily on her sofa, suddenly winded.

“A fellowship?”

“Yes - assuming the interview goes well and you accept any offer we extend. Do you have any questions for me right now?”

“No,” Rey squeaked, “I think I’m good for now. Again, thanks for calling, Dr. Holdo. I’ll be sure to email you in a couple of days with my availability to interview with you.”

“Oh, well I wouldn’t be conducting the interview. You’ll be sitting down with one of our Emeritus professors. In any case, I’ll wait for your email to confirm, and have a great rest of your day!”

“You too.”

Rey could do little more than just sit, staring into space, for several minutes after the call ended.

Then she jumped up and squealed so loudly that she woke a sleeping BB and sent him bolting out of the window and probably back down to Poe’s place to hide.

This was  _ officially  _ the best day of Rey’s life.

And it was only going to get better.

  
  


~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know - the president of an Ivy League school would probably NOT be making calls like that, but hey, at least they don't have laser swords. You only have to suspend disbelief a little. ;)
> 
> Warning: the next chapter is going to earn the E-rating. I tried to get there in this chapter but there was just too much to do. At least they're making out now, that's a step in the right direction!
> 
> My [Tumblr](%E2%80%9Demmyjeanb.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D) \- come say hi!


	14. Finally

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter is where the fic starts to live up to the rating. *fans self*
> 
> Sorry in advance for the length of this one but I had to fit certain things in (no pun intended). Hope you all are happy with it!
> 
> Also this chapter is pretty darn fluffy, but there's always an undercurrent of intensity (I hope) and the next couple of chapters will start bringing the angst back big-time (because I live for angst). So, enjoy the fluff while you can, lol.
> 
> ~~

Rey had a midnight-blue dress that she had only worn once. She’d bought it when she went as Finn’s date to his cousin’s wedding a few years ago. It was the nicest, most beautiful thing she owned and it fit her slight curves like a glove. That’s what she decided to put on for her date with Ben, and then she put on makeup - another thing she never really did.

Earlier in the day, Finn had called randomly - he sounded a little intoxicated, which gave Rey pause - and said he was taking Rose out to a celebratory lunch at the greasy spoon down the block, and asked if she’d like to come.

“I can’t, I’ve got a lot to do. What are you celebrating? Also, are you _drunk?”_

“A lot to do?” he repeated with a scoff, ignoring all her questions, “Like…?”

“I have a date tonight, actually,” she admitted, self-consciously tucking a hair behind her ear, “With, um...with Ben.”

Whatever she’d expected from Finn, it wasn’t the absolutely ear-splitting whoop that came through the phone, followed by something that sounded like he was clapping.

“Finn?” she said firmly, narrowing her eyes at her fridge, “Seriously, what’s going on with you?”

“Nothing, nothing. I’m just - “ he laughed, then sighed, and finally said, “I’m glad you’re giving him a shot, Rey. He’s a good dude.”

She raised a brow skeptically, “You are? He is? Since when?”

“You’re the one going out with him!”

“I _know_ , but you always said he was…”

“Yeah, yeah,” he cut her off, “But things...change. Anyway, let me know how it goes. Make sure you wear clean underwear.”

She made a face, “Bloody hell. Do you think I walk around in dirty knickers?”

“Doesn’t everyone, technically?”

She shook her head and muttered, “I don’t know why you’re drunk at noon, but you absolutely are.”

“I’m buzzed, that’s all.”

“At noon?”

“I told you, I’m celebrating.”

“Yes, you did say that. Celebrating _what?”_

Finn seemed to hesitate, then replied, “Look, it’s a long story. Call me tomorrow and I’ll tell you all about it. For now, just...have fun on your date. You deserve it, okay?”

She shrugged and replied, “Well, I don’t know about that, but I will anyway.”

“Okay. Good.”

“Say ‘hi’ to Rose for me.”

“Will do. Say hi to Ben.”

“Um...okay?”

He’d hung up, and she had stared at her phone for a good minute before she’d forced herself to temporarily put the whole thing out of her head. She knew Finn and he was definitely acting bizarre, which worried her a bit, but she didn’t want to press him. It could wait until tomorrow.

 

~~

 

By the time Ben pulled up in front of her building at seven that evening, she was a bundle of nerves in spite of how much prepping and primping she’d done. She twisted her fingers nervously and smiled as she approached the car, then stilled in surprise as he hurled himself out of it and strode around to her side.

He stopped right in front of her, eyes traveling over her as he took her in with a small smile and breathing like he was slightly winded.

 _At least we’re on the same page,_ she thought to herself as she returned his smile.

“Hi,” he rasped.

“Hey.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets - he looked deliciously handsome in dark dress slacks and a dark blue button down - and abruptly leaned forward to land a soft peck on her cheek. It was awkward, stilted, and absolutely adorable. When he pulled back, he was flushed to the tips of his ears and cleared his throat.

“You ready to go?”

“Well, I _was_ standing on the sidewalk waiting for you.”

“You were,” he nodded, his eyes warm, “And you look beautiful.”

“Thanks,” she replied, and now she was the one flushing, “And did you notice that we match?”

He glanced down at his blue shirt and huffed a laugh before catching her eyes once again and murmuring, “Yes, we do.”

Rey felt like she was going to melt into a puddle with the way he was looking at her, and she couldn’t help squirming a bit. She wasn’t used to such a laser-sharp, intense gaze focused on her - or, she hadn’t been, until she met him. It was still taking some adjustment, so she drew a breath and said cheerfully,

“Should we get going? I’m starving.”

At this, he smirked and it diffused the heady tension between them a bit as he quipped, “What else is new? Sometimes I feel like all we do is eat.”

“Well, maybe we can try other things now.”

 _Now that we’re together_ was the unspoken and perfectly innocent implication, and Rey’s eyes widened a bit as she realized how that sounded. She glanced sheepishly up at him and found him turning red again as he stared down at her. She pressed her lips together, and he laughed and shook his head.

“Get in the car, Rey.”

She obeyed, and he shut her door and walked around the front of the car, catching her eye through the windshield. When he got in, he reached out and caught her around the back of her head, pulling her toward him for a kiss that started out gentle and quickly turned heated as he slid his tongue into her mouth. She grabbed the sleeve of his shirt with one hand to steady herself as he kept up his assault, both of them groaning softly, and after a breathless few minutes he finally pulled away,

“Sorry,” he exhaled, his dark eyes molten as he looked at her, “I’ve had a hell of a day, and kissing you was all I could think about the entire time. Well, that and a medium-rare ribeye.”

She laughed, swiping at his mouth with her thumb, and replied, “Well, you’ve had one, now let’s get you the other.”

He kissed her one more time for good measure, ruining the progress she’d made on the lipstick smudges, and then shifted gears and pulled away from the curb. She opened her mouth to ask him about his hellish day when suddenly she realized he must mean work.

The thought was like a bucket of ice water on her head, and she quickly looked out the window as she tried to compose herself.

 _Don’t think about all that right now,_ she told herself, _just enjoy the evening._

“You okay?” he asked, leaning forward to catch her eye.

“Yeah,” she smiled, smoothing her skirt, “I’m just excited for tonight. I’ve been looking forward to it all day.”

“Me too,” he said, smiling softly back at her, “I hope you like the place. Like I said, it’s my favorite steakhouse. I think it’d kill me if you hated it.”

“Ben, I know the whole relationship part of this is new, but come on,” she retorted, “How long have you known me now? You know you could take me to Carl’s Jr. and I’d be over the moon.”

“Maybe for the third date,” he said, quirking a brow at her as he shifted gears, “By then I won’t be trying to impress you anymore.”

“Ah, yeah,” she nodded sagely, “They say it’s all downhill after the second date.”

“I know, that’s why I figured I might as well go out with a bang.”

She snorted, then cupped a hand over her mouth. He frowned at her, then jerked his eyes back to the road.

“It’s an expression,” he muttered, clearly embarrassed.

“Actually, it’s T.S. Eliot.”

He shot her a withering look and drawled, “Yes, I know.”

Eyeing him gleefully, reveling in his adorable discomfort, she added innocently, “Wasn’t there something about whimpering in that poem, too?”

He turned even redder, and then heaved a sigh before reciting the entire five-stanzas for her in his low, deep voice while she listened, enraptured, the smile slipping from her face as she became lost in the lull of his lilting cadence. By the time he was done, the tables had turned and she was the one who was feeling rather hot as they parked, and then walked hand-in-hand around the corner to what looked to be an extremely chic restaurant.

Which seemed to be on fire. Or at least, that’s what the flashing fire engines and blockade suggested.

“What the fuck?” Ben exclaimed, his hand tightening around hers. A policeman approached them with a gentle,

“Sorry, folks. You’ll have to turn around.”

“Is it Mastro’s?” Ben asked, sounding a bit panicked. It was his favorite steakhouse, after all - as he’d said many, many times.

“No, the place next door, but obviously the surrounding businesses have been evacuated. Sorry for the inconvenience,” the man added, eyeing their attire and apparently surmising that they’d planned to go to said expensive restaurant for dinner.

Ben now looked murderous, so Rey tugged at his hand and led him away, murmuring, “Come on, let’s go.”

They walked in silence back toward where his car was parked until finally Ben bit out, “I don’t fucking believe it.”

“Ben, it’s okay…”

“No, it’s really not,” he ranted, running the hand that wasn’t holding hers through his hair, “I’ve been wanting to take you to this place forever and...shit. It’s like some cosmic joke.”

Rey squeezed his hand and said gently, “We’ll go another time, okay? We can just find somewhere else to eat tonight.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but then sighed and nodded tersely, “I don’t mean to act like a tantruming child about this, but…”

“I know,” she interrupted, bumping his arm with her shoulder, “You’ve been planning this for months, after all. But there’s always the third date, you know? We don’t _have_ to go to Carl’s Jr. for that one...”

Ben slowed to look at her, and she winked. He chuckled and pulled her into his arms, resting his chin on her head.

“The voice of reason,” he murmured, “What would I do without you?”

“Hmm,” she smiled and guessed, “Go home to order pizza?”

“Probably, but only after fuming about it until I punched or broke something because I was a miserable fucking bastard until I met you.”

She just tightened her arms around his waist in return. They stood like that for a long moment, just enjoying each other’s embrace and the fresh air, and then Rey stepped back - and caught sight of something that made new laughter bubble up in her chest.

“What?” Ben asked suspiciously.

“I think I know what we need to do for our Plan B dinner, because this _has_ to be fate.”

He cocked his head at her quizzically, then turned to glance over his shoulder at what she was beaming at - which was a vibrant-looking Mexican restaurant called _La Chaparrita_.

“Get it?” she asked, nudging him playfully, “Tacos?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered, and it only made her laugh harder, “I specifically said no tacos.”

“You said no taco _truck_ \- this is a proper restaurant, so it doesn’t count,” she retorted, already dragging him toward the place, “Come on - it’s poetic. You like poetic. You just recited bloody Eliot to me in the car.”

“I seriously feel like you set this up to fuck with me,” he sighed, shaking his head and taking her hand in his again as he strode resignedly toward the place, “Do you have a history of setting fires?”

“I did once set a microwave on fire.”

He glanced at her and asked, “Tell me you didn’t put foil in there. You’re better than that.”

“Nope,” she said proudly, “Plutt once gave me a nickel as a Christmas bonus. He thought it was hilarious, and I didn’t - so I zapped it, and his microwave. He had to eat cold lunches for a week.”

He stared at her in what could only be described as awe for a good two seconds and then stopped in his tracks to yank her to him and plant his lips on hers. The kiss was over before she could even register it was happening, and then he was the one dragging _her_ toward the bright blue front door of La Chaparrita.

“You _deserve_ tacos for that story,” he said firmly.

 

~~

 

An hour later, they’d eaten what felt like fifteen tacos between the two of them - the restaurant let them order a la carte, so they’d tried one of everything - and a couple baskets of chips and salsa. Ben leaned back in his chair, his sigh indicating that he was admitting defeat, and grumbled,

“I’m gonna have such bad heartburn from this.”

“You sound like an old man,” Rey smirked, swirling the little green straw in her water.

“Yeah, well,” he shrugged, reaching out for where her other hand rested on the table so that he could lace his fingers through hers, “Sometimes I feel like one, too.”

She snorted and ran her thumb over his, “Well, you look pretty good for your age, sir.”

His eyes darkened and he said, “Is it wrong if I ask you to call me that more often?”

“Maybe I will. If I feel like you’ve earned it,” she teased, and he asked huskily,

“And how do I do that?”

She smiled and pointed, “You can share one of those huge margaritas with me before we leave.”

He eyed the one that she was pointing at on the table next to them and grimaced.

“I’m pretty sure those are meant for parties of ten or more.”

Laughing, she needled, “No, the menu just says they’re meant to share, and that only requires two. Come on, please? I have something I want to celebrate.”

He looked back at her, surprised, and asked, “Oh yeah? What?”

“I’ll tell you after we get our drink.”

Rolling his eyes and unable to completely conceal his affection for her behind the feigned annoyance, he signaled to the waiter and placed the order. A couple of minutes later the monstrosity was between them and she insisted they both take a sip at the same time. He complied, albeit grudgingly, and then she smacked her lips and announced,

“I got a call earlier from a university who wants me to interview with them.”

His brows shot up in delight and he exclaimed, “Did you, really?”

She nodded eagerly and continued, “Yep! I just about died, but that’s not even all - she said they were so impressed by my submissions that they’re considering awarding me a fellowship, which would be nothing short of a _godsend_ for me. It was the president herself who called. I was so excited, I can’t even remember the whole conversation. I just hope I didn’t sound too idiotic on the phone.”

“Doubtful. You never sound idiotic,” he said dismissively, then gushed, “That’s fantastic, Rey. I’m so fucking proud of you. What school?”

“This is the best part,” she said, leaning forward and taking a large drag of margarita before whispering conspiratorially, “It’s bloody _Princeton.”_

He froze, an odd expression crossing his face. His tone was unexpectedly cold as he asked,

“As in, Princeton University. Ivy League.”

She faltered and confirmed, “Well, yeah. What other one is there?”

He was silent for a long moment, just looking at her with a completely flat affect as though he was trying to hide his emotions behind a curtain. She began to fidget and asked,

“Ben? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, taking a drink and trying unsuccessfully to sound enthusiastic again as he continued, “Sorry, I was just...wow. When are you going?”

Deciding to let the strange moment pass, she shrugged and deflated a little as she explained, “Well, that’s the only hitch, really. I’ll have to talk to Maz, and maybe even Plutt, about picking up some more work so I can afford the airfare. I’ll save the money eventually, I’m good at that, it’s just a question of whether the university will wait…”

“I’ll buy your ticket,” he declared suddenly, cutting her off. His fingers drummed on the table like he was agitated, and there was still a slight frown between his brows.

“What?” she yelped, stunned, “Ben, no…”

“Yes,” he interrupted, pinning her with an intense stare, “I want to. You _deserve_ this.”

“For what?” she protested, but he wasn’t having it.

“You completely changed my entire life for the better, Rey,” he insisted almost angrily, “Let me do this for you. Please. I want to cover your airfare so you can go to this interview, even though you’re too good for fucking Princeton.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and asked, “Do you have something against Princeton?”

He looked at her for a long time, his jaw working, and finally he ran both hands through his hair and muttered, “No. I’m just - I’m really happy for you. You’re amazing and I’m sure they’ll offer you a spot.”

“Ben,” she said softly, taking his hand once more and feeling relieved when he again laced his fingers through hers, “Even if they do, I - I’m not giving this up.”

“Giving what up?”

“You, you dolt,” she said bluntly, “We’ll figure it out as we go, but I have no intention of leaving this relationship behind. Princeton or no.”

He stared at her, astonished, and finally replied, “That - that never even occurred to me. I…”

He stopped, gathered himself, and then sighed, “Look, yeah - we can talk about all that when it happens, but moving off that subject for now if you don’t mind - I actually have something to tell you, too.”

“Okay,” she replied, trepidation over his bizarre mood gnawing at her, “Go ahead.”

He drew a breath before confessing, “I quit my job today.”

Rey almost fell off her chair.

She’d been actively avoiding letting her mind wander in that direction, because she knew it would put a damper on everything about this sort of first date reboot they were on, so to hear him announce this as though the thought of his bloody career _hadn’t_ been plaguing her since their first kiss was like being hit in the face.

“You _what?”_

He nodded, visibly swallowing, and explained, “I - it’s a long story and I’ll spare you the gory details, but I’d finally had enough. Snoke had been crossing lines with the demands he was making on me for a long time, and with everything that happened in these past couple of weeks - you finally knocking some sense into me and offering to partner with me on my play, and then…”

He trailed off, and she joked breathily, “Offering to partner with you, generally speaking?”

He smiled at this, his eyes crinkling, and said quietly, “Yeah. That. Especially that. I knew I couldn’t keep doing what I’d been doing. Not if I wanted to be with you - which I absolutely fucking do.”

She drew a shaky breath and said, “Ben...I was willing to accept it, you know. I want you to know that me wanting to be with you wasn’t conditional. I would never have asked you to give up your career, even...even if...”

“It wasn’t a career, it was a trap,” he insisted gently, “And I needed to get out of it. It wasn’t because I didn’t think you’d do your best to accept me for what I was, it was because I didn’t want to do it anymore. I don’t want to be with anyone but you. And I have no idea why the fuck _you_ want _me_ , but since you do, I wanted to be able to give myself to you, too.”

His lips trembled a bit as he repeated softly, “Just you.”

They sat there, just staring at each other, drowning in each other’s eyes for a long moment. Then Rey broke the silence.

“Let’s finish this stupidly large drink that I’m very much regretting making you order and get the hell out of here.”

His lip curled as he watched her latch onto the straw.

“Ready to go home already?”

She choked a bit on the tequila before replying, “Yeah, and you can pick whether we go to my home or yours. Now, stop slacking and _sip_.”

  


~~

  


When they got back to his place, after he’d shut the door behind them and flicked on the light, they could do little more for the first couple of minutes than stand there staring at each other. Ben rubbed his palms on his trousers and Rey twisted her fingers together, biting her lip as all the bravado she’d felt at the restaurant suddenly fled her.

“We can...” he began, and then cleared his throat as his voice cracked, “We can have a drink, if you want. A nightcap.”

She smiled fondly and quipped, “I thought that was what that enormous margarita was supposed to be.”

His lips twitched and his throat bobbed as he glanced around, “I know, I just thought - you know, if you needed…”

“Liquid courage?”

His eyes snapped back to hers and he swallowed, hard. Instead of playing into the teasing, he remained solemn as he replied,

“A little time.”

Rey sobered, too, and stepped closer to him as she admitted, “I don’t need any more time, Ben. I want this. I’m all in.”

His brown eyes were like molten-hot chocolate as they stared down at her, his breath coming a bit too quickly from his parted lips. Slowly, she slid her arms up around his neck and without missing a beat, he wrapped his own arms around her waist and crushed her to him. Rey frowned as she stroked the back of his neck.

He was shaking.

“Ben?”

“I just - need a minute,” he replied haltingly.

“Are you alright?” she pressed softly, concerned.

He took a moment before answering, his voice muffled against her neck as he admitted, “I’m nervous as shit, Rey.”

This startled her. _He_ was nervous?

“Why?”

He pulled back a bit to stare at her as though he couldn’t believe she was asking.

"Why? Because I’ve wanted this so _fucking_ badly, and now we’re here,” he trailed off for a minute, then finished, “And it’s just - it’s been so long since I’ve done this.”

On the surface, the statement was so ludicrously false that she wondered if he was making an extremely ill-timed, unfunny joke. He must have noticed her reaction because he frowned at her, a question in his eyes. He caught on a second later and his body stiffened.

“It’s _not_ the same,” he almost snapped before taking a breath and composing himself, his hands stroking up and down her back in apology for his tone as he explained, “I’ve never been this desperate for someone. Not even close. I’m terrified that I won’t be good enough, that I won’t be about to give you what - what you need.”

Bowled over, she carded her fingers through his hair, her eyes wet as she said softly, “Just touch me. That’s all I need.”

His shoulders sagged in relief, as though her words had been exactly what he had needed to hear, and before Rey could register what was happening he was hoisting her off the floor and walking her backward.

She smiled against his hair as he made his way through the door to what she assumed was his bedroom, chills going down her spine as he bit down lightly on her shoulder before kissing his way across her collarbones. He lowered her to the floor next to his bed, which was unmade - a fact that struck Rey as almost unbearably endearing, because obviously he hadn’t dared to hope that anything like this would be happening tonight. He went to flick on the light, and then turned to meet her eyes.

Suddenly she felt like time was standing still as the weight of everything they felt for each other settled between them. The only sound Rey heard was her own heart beating in her ears - or maybe she was hearing _his_ heartbeat, she couldn’t tell anymore.

Without warning he surged forward and kissed her, his fingers threading through her hair, his lips somehow hungry and hesitant at the same time. Sighing, she opened up to him, relief washing over her as she reveled in the slide of his tongue against hers as he swept in to taste her.

Rey pulled his shirt from where it was tucked into his belt and slid her hands underneath, up the firm planes of his stomach. He shivered under her touch and reached behind his head to tug the shirt up and off, revealing his broad, bare torso to her. Rey felt her breath catch embarrassingly as she reached out to run a hand across his huge chest. He was pale and covered with dark moles, his muscles taught and defined.

It wasn’t anything she hadn’t seen before, her traitorous mind provided before she could stem the thought, but - it was so different now. Now it was hers.

 _He_ was hers.

He reached for her again, but she quickly turned her back to him and pulled her hair to the side.

“Help me get this off, please?”

He hovered obediently behind her as his thick fingers fumbled with the small zipper of her dress. He finally managed to slide it down, and then let it fall to the floor to pool around her feet. It would wrinkle, but Rey couldn’t be bothered to care much. She was about to turn around when she felt him press his chest against her back, his arms slowly encircling her and pulling her back against him as he buried his face in her hair.

Even though they were both standing there half-naked, the embrace didn’t feel lustful - it felt nothing short of reverent, and Rey’s eyes pricked with tears. She felt more adored than she ever had in her entire life.

Impatient to touch him, she turned in his arms, unhooking her bra and shucking it off. His eyes dropped to her breasts and he went completely still. She was hit with a vicious wave of insecurity as she suddenly thought about all the perfect, sizeable breasts he’d seen and touched. In a purely knee-jerk reaction, she brought her arms up to cover her own from his unrelenting stare.

Ben’s hands flew to her wrists, pulling her arms back down.

“No, let me see you,” he rasped. With a soft sigh, he slowly got to his knees in front of her, bringing his face level with her chest. He finally tore his gaze from her breasts, glanced up at her and asked on an exhale,

“Can I...?”

She couldn’t manage anything but a nod. His hands were still trembling violently as he reached up to touch her, and she placed her own hands over his large ones, guiding them where they kneaded and stroked her. Her insecurities flew out the window as she watched his mouth fall open and his eyes shine with unguarded admiration.

Rey had spent so many long years feeling so alone. She’d spent countless nights lying in hard, cold beds that were never really hers and wondering what was wrong with her, why no one wanted her - battling an ache in her chest that even her closeness with Finn hadn’t been able to completely eradicate.

Something about this moment - standing, bare and vulnerable, in front of Ben Solo as he worshipped her - was cathartic. It was like her soul was finally being soothed by someone who was fluent in the language it spoke, who knew just how to read the pattern of scars that had been left on it over the years.

It felt like this moment, _this_ man, was what she’d been waiting for her entire life. Like he was what she’d really been missing all along, and she’d finally found him.

Her chest felt so full she thought she might burst.

It appeared she wasn't the only one having some sort of revelation. His chest heaved as he drew a shuddering breath and his hands slid down to her waist where they gripped her so tightly it might be painful if she focused on it. His forehead fell forward to rest against her sternum.

“I love you,” he murmured, his words tickling her stomach and making her shiver, “Fuck, I love you.”

One day soon she’d share it all with him - everything that was swirling around in her head, every thought and revelation - but right now she just wanted to lose herself in sensation and feeling. So, she merely tilted his jaw up and kissed him. He obliged, his fingers grasping her hips as he plundered her mouth over and over, groaning as she nibbled at his lip.

He tore his mouth from hers just before he craned forward and took one of her nipples into his mouth. She gasped, unprepared, as he worked it with his teeth, sucking gently at first and then harder. He plucked at the other with his fingers, and then switched sides to lavish the same attention on the other breast.

After what seemed like forever and not nearly long enough, he released her breasts and hauled her against him as he stood. Humming against her mouth, he lay her down on the bed and proceeded to kiss his way down her stomach until he knelt before her once again, gently pushing her thighs apart.

Rey didn’t have time to feel self-conscious before he buried his face between her legs, both of them moaning as he licked a long swipe between her folds, then slung her knees over his broad shoulders as he began to work at her in earnest.

Suddenly it didn’t matter what either of them had done before or how long it had been, because what he was doing to her with his tongue was nothing short of a miracle. She stifled a scream as she reached down to grab a fistful of his thick hair, shuddering at the sound of his growl as he demanded harshly,

_“Let go.”_

She swiftly released his hair, flustered, and he reached out to capture her hand and drag it back to his head as he chuckled against her, “No, I mean stop holding back. I want to hear you. Scream if you want - scream my name.”

“Oh, god,” she breathed, and when she didn’t immediately comply with his command he sucked her clit - hard - and effectively elicited the reaction he’d asked for when she shrieked his name and came against his face.

He lapped at her for a few more seconds as she rode the wave, and then he was up and on top of her, his fingers replacing his mouth as he stroked her through the end. His face was inches from hers, his slack jaw glistening and his pupils blown wide as he watched her with wonder painted all over his expression.

Like he couldn’t believe he’d managed to make her come.

“God, Rey,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss her deeply before pulling back again, “That was beautiful. You’re so _fucking_ beautiful... _”_

She panted, smiling languidly, then reached down and tried to pull at his wrist but he wasn’t having it.

“I want to make you come again.”

“No, it’s - I’ve never been able to…”

“Let me try,” he begged, “Please?”

She winced a little but nodded, knowing she would give him pretty much anything he asked her for in that moment, and willed herself to relax as he gently stroked her and peppered her face with light kisses, murmuring over and over about how amazing she was as his thumb gently circled her already-sensitive clit. After a moment, he slipped one thick finger inside her. She let out a soft ‘oh’, and he quickly reared back to see her face.

“Is that good?”

“Yes,” she replied on a sigh, shocked that she was starting to feel the pressure build up again. She’d never had more than one in less than five bloody minutes - not even when she was at the wheel herself, so to speak. He added another finger, still watching her, and then he curled his fingers inside her.

Her climax hit her like a lightning bolt, knocking the wind out of her. She didn’t even have the breath to manage a scream this time as she arched off the bed, her hands grasping his sheets so hard she was vaguely afraid she’d rip them.

Through the fog of her aftershocks, she felt Ben withdraw his hand from her and heard the clink of his belt as he hastily shucked the trousers he still hadn’t taken off. The bed dipped as he braced himself above her, caging her between his arms. He hovered above her, his expression enraptured as he reached between them to grip his rigid, leaking erection. She eyed it, anxiety infiltrating her buzz - she’d forgotten how bloody _massive_ he was, and for a moment she wondered if they’d even fit together.

“Rey?”

It was a question - he was asking if she wanted to continue. Even with the consideration he was showing her by checking in, she could tell he was bordering on desperate, and so she didn’t hesitate as she nodded her consent. He didn’t hesitate either as he reached over to his side table and retrieved a condom from a previously unopened box and quickly rolled it on, then reared up onto his knees and lined himself up with her entrance.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Ready as you are,” she teased back with a pointed look at his turgid hard-on, and his grin was feral as he rubbed the tip across her folds before he began to push in.

“Fuck,” she choked, and he froze.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just - it’s been awhile and you’re really big.”

He huffed apologetically and asked, “You want to slow down? I can...”

“God, no,” she barked, and leaned up to plunder his mouth with a sloppy, deliciously frantic kiss, “Keep going. Please.”

He complied with a grateful exhale, going as slowly as he could so that she could adjust to the penetration. The stretch was _intense_ \- it burned but Rey reveled in it, the feeling of him _finally_ inside her.

“Oh, god, Ben,” she keened, panting, “Please...you can - you can just…”

He got the hint and with one swift snap of his hips he buried the rest of his length in her, his guttural grunt mingling with her surprised cry.

“You okay? Rey?” he asked in a strangled voice, stroking her hair away from her face and kissing her eyes, her cheeks, her chin. She nodded, unable to find her voice, and then wrapped her legs around his back in a signal for him to go ahead and move. He dropped his forehead to hers and let out a shuddering breath as he warned,

“I’m - I probably won’t last long. You feel so... _fucking_ ... _incredible_...”

“It’s okay,” she soothed, leaning up to kiss his neck and shoulders, the tendons there bulging and his skin hot as he struggled to contain himself, “Just let go.”

He didn’t, or couldn’t, wait for any more reassurance than that and began to move, a bead of his sweat dripping onto her forehead as he rocked into her, seeking his own climax. He’d been right - eight or ten powerful thrusts and he was coming, spilling inside her with a ragged groan. He collapsed on top of her, his weight pressing her into the bed, but she didn’t mind.

It was comforting, and she drew patterns across his shoulder blades with her fingertips as they both worked to catch their breath.

They laid there for a long time, unwilling to separate. Lifting off of her slightly, he captured her mouth in a languid kiss as he murmured against her lips,

“Can we just stay here like this forever?”

“I’d wholeheartedly agree,” she smiled, more content and blissed-out than she’d ever felt, “But sadly we can’t, because you weigh at least a ton and you’re starting to crush me.”

He grimaced and quickly rolled to his side, propping himself on his shoulder and muttering, “Sorry.”

She was about to reassure him when he unceremoniously reached down and yanked the condom off before throwing it on the floor.

“Seriously? That’s gross,” she chided, wrinkling her nose and laughing in spite of herself, “You know you just ruined the moment, right?”

“You’re the one who just basically told me I weigh too much.”

He cut off her indignant reply by leaning over and slanting his mouth over hers, kissing away the breath she’d just managed to get back. Slinging an arm around her waist and pulling her back against him, he plied her neck and shoulder with soft kisses as he mumbled,

“I’ll deal with it later. If I tried to stand up right now I’d collapse.”

“Jelly legs?”

“I strongly suspect that would be the case, yes. I hope you’re happy, because you’ve completely wrecked me.”

“Good thing we’re already in bed, then.”

He kissed her absentmindedly as she stroked his arm, smiling at the goosebumps that she was raising on his skin, and after a long moment he spoke.

“Is it pathetic if I tell you that I’m not sure I’ve ever truly been happy until right now? This moment?”

Warmth flooded her as she replied, “Too late - you just did. And…I was actually thinking the same thing, so, no it's not. Either that, or we’re _both_ pathetic.”

He grinned and placed two lingering kisses on her neck before murmuring, “Looks like we belong together then, doesn’t it?”

“That depends.”

He stilled and asked warily, “On?”

“On whether you’re taking me to breakfast in the morning.”

He snorted against her shoulder and drawled, “Really?”

“What?” she asked defensively, looking at him over her shoulder.

“You and your appetite, I swear to God,” he shook his head, his arm tightening around her middle and betraying how delighted he secretly was with her, “I’m basking in the afterglow of the most mind-blowing sex of my life, and all _you_ can think about is breakfast. I feel like I should be offended.”

She smiled, trying not to let the fact that he’d called what they just did the best sex he’s ever had go to her head too much, and replied, “Is that a ‘no’, then?”

Ben sighed and resumed kissing her neck as he grumbled, “You know damn well I’ll give you whatever you want. Assuming we’re even up before noon.”

She glanced at his alarm clock and frowned, “It’s only eleven-thirty, it’s not that late.”

A slow smile spread across his face as he rumbled in her ear, “We’re not done yet.”  
  
  
  
  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well then.
> 
> I'm really not super-confident in my smut-writing (I was always more of a T-rated fic writer until this fricking hot-ass ship came along and I caught the thirst bad) but I hope it at least somewhat lived up to the slow burn that it took to get them here!
> 
> Just FYI, I'm guessing there are maybe 3-4 chapters left before I bring this story to hopefully a satisfying conclusion. I still can't believe people are even reading it at all, much less loving it and leaving lovely comments and kudos every time. You guys are truly the best - thank you.


	15. Clouds on the Horizon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man...what can I say. I'm so sorry there was such a delay on this chapter, but I got hit with writer's block something fierce. This is the point in the story where Ben's past really begins to come into play, and I wanted to make sure I didn't take a wrong turn here. Plus there was the holidays, the entire household got sick at once, AND I graduated from nursing school. So it's been a helluva month!
> 
> That said, this chapter is fluff, fluff, smut, fluff and angst. Maybe not in that order, but it's all there.
> 
> TW: I do reference some dark stuff in this chapter - nothing overly explicit, but skip to the end notes for details if you want to know ahead of time.
> 
> Other than that - hope you enjoy!

As predicted, they didn’t go to bed for another several hours and probably wouldn’t be up in time for anything earlier than lunch.

He’d made love to her two more times before she decided she needed to shower before going to sleep, and he had been more than happy to suggest a hot bath instead. Together, of course.

Now they were sitting in Ben’s huge bathtub, sated and sleepy as he ran a washcloth lazily over her skin. He couldn’t stop kissing her - her shoulders, her face, her neck. Anywhere he could reach, and he didn’t think he’d ever be able to stop.

“I can’t believe you’ve never used this tub before,” she murmured from where she was seated between his knees, thankfully not seeming to mind him not being able to keep his lips off of her as her head lolled back against his shoulder, “What a waste.”

“It doesn’t feel like we’re wasting it right now,” he rumbled back, hard again where she was pressed against him and perfectly content to ignore it for the time being as he basked in the singular intimacy of washing her body clean of the mess they’d made together.

“What other perfectly good stuff do you own that you’ve never used?”

“A lot,” he replied, chuckling, “Wait until you start going through the kitchen. There’s stuff in there that’s still in the box.”

“Hang on,” she said warily, craning her neck to look up at him with narrowed eyes, “You’re not one of those people who stays up late at night and orders the stuff you see on infomercials, are you?”

He laughed, jostling her with the vibration of his chest, and slid his hands down her arms and over her knees before replying, “Shit, you caught me. Three easy payments of $29.95 is just too good to pass up.”

She groaned in mock dismay, turning her face so that she could kiss his jaw as she admonished, “That’s something you should have told me  _ before  _ I slept with you.”

“Is it a dealbreaker?”

“The jury’s out.”

“Well, fuck,” he muttered, his hard-on becoming more difficult to ignore as the bantering continued, “Anything I can do to sway the verdict my way?”

He nipped her shoulder and she was silent for a long moment - so long that he thought she might have fallen asleep. Craning his head forward, he rumbled,

“Rey?”

“I love you, Ben.”

Her sudden declaration washed over him, warmer and more soothing than the bath water. It wasn’t the first time she’d said it to him, but that didn’t stop him from shuddering a bit when he heard it. He kissed his way up her neck again, slowly, and hummed.

“Rey, you have no idea…”

“Listen, just…listen for a minute. I want to...” she interrupted urgently, then trailed off. He stilled as he felt her body tense a bit against his, his brow furrowed as he tilted his head to see her face. She turned away from him, but the sting of the gesture was lessened as she brought her soapy hands up to cover his where they rested on her knees.

“What?” he prompted gently, hooking his chin over her shoulder and turning his hands to lace his fingers through hers, “Rey, what’s wrong?”

She drew a shaky breath and began, seemingly out of nowhere, “I lost my virginity when I was barely fourteen. I...there was a boy I lived with in one of the homes. He was older, just about to age out, and...he promised to share his meals if I let him do what he wanted. That place wasn’t one of the best, and I was so tired of being hungry. Not just hungry, but  _ empty  _ \- like there was a gaping hole in my guts that I’d never be able to fill up.”

Ben’s fingers tightened reflexively around hers as his stomach turned. He hated this - hated thinking about what she’d been through. She hadn’t shared much of it, up to this point - he’d long suspected that, while she was upfront about how she’d grown up in a general sense, it was a sanitized and edited version she fed to people.

This, now - this was her baring herself to him. He hated it, but he was also overcome with gratitude that she was choosing to share this with him.

Shaking her head a little against his shoulder, she went on quietly, “I figured whatever he was going to do, it couldn’t be worse than how I already felt. I was wrong - I felt a hundred times worse, because not only had I sold myself out, I did it for nothing. He ran away the next day, and I never saw him again. So I got duped, used...and I was still hungry.”

He bent his head, pressing his face into the crook of her neck, and sighed her name into her pulse point. She rubbed her cheek against him and insisted,

“It doesn’t sting anymore. It did for a long time, though, and that’s - there were a lot of little stories like that for me. All these let-downs that ended up changing me into someone who doesn’t like to open up to people. It’s a miracle I got so close to Finn, and it took him a good three years to gain my complete trust, and even with him...”

She halted again, sighed, and then suddenly she surged up and turned around to face him. Her eyes were glassy as she cradled his face in her hands, smearing suds on his cheeks.

“I’ve never said ‘I love you’ to anyone, not in any context. Ever. Not until the other night, when I said it to you. And I expected it to get stuck in my throat, or that I’d need more time, but…”

He stared up at her in awe, his lips parted and hanging on her every word, hands unconsciously grasping at her hips and drawing her closer as she finished,

“It felt right. It still does.”

He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to her breastbone, breathing her in as he attempted to keep control of his raging emotions. The scent of his own body wash mingling with the essence that was undeniably her, along with the sensation of her fingers carding through his wet hair, were threatening to send him spiraling.

“Rey,” he whispered, “I don’t know what to say. I...”

“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.”

Groaning lightly, he raised his head and drew her to him, kissing her until they were both out of breath. Pulling away, he held her face in his hands and vowed,

“I promise I won’t ever make you regret saying it to me.”

They stayed there for a long moment, stroking each other’s faces and lost in each other’s eyes, until finally she sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder. He stroked her back for a few minutes, still battling the lump in his throat. 

He didn’t think he ever had, or ever could, love anything more than he loved her.

“Tired?” he asked after he felt her yawn, and when she nodded against him he chuckled, “We should probably dry off and go to bed.”

She hummed her agreement and he stood, carefully pulling her to her feet along with him. Reaching over, he grabbed two towels and helped her out of the tub, wrapping her snugly in one and tucking the other around his waist before he pulled her to him again for a lingering kiss.

“I can lend you a shirt,” he said, “Or whatever you need, until you get a chance to bring your stuff over.”

“Oh, are you giving me a drawer?” she asked wryly as she led the way back into his bedroom, “That’s huge.”

He shook his head and hesitated for only a second before confessing, “Actually, I’m biding time until it’s appropriate to ask you to just move in with me. I figure I can probably make it until next week.”

She turned to glance at him over her shoulder, her eyes twinkling and her smile wistful as she replied, “Careful - I might actually say yes, if it means I’ll have unlimited access to that tub.”

His steps slowed as he gazed at her, absently reaching for the promised shirt and watching her as she slipped it on and dried her hair.

He knew she was probably teasing him, and that the way his heart was pounding at the thought of her sharing his home was absolutely fucking ridiculous after they’d only been officially together for less than a week, but he couldn’t help the way his mind was running away from him as he climbed into bed beside her and wrapped her in his arms.

“Will you still come to breakfast with me if I wake you up in four hours?” she smiled, half-asleep already.

He buried his face in her hair and whispered, “I’ll do it for you, but I probably won’t be happy about it. I’d rather just make you some pancakes so that neither of us has to get dressed.”

“Are you any good at it? Pancake-making?”

“No.”

She laughed, and he placed a kiss at the back of her neck as she replied, “I’m too tired to think. We’ll play it by ear.”

He opened his mouth to bid her goodnight, but instead blurted softly, “Uh, I’m pretty sure my building management allows cats. Just...saying.”

She huffed softly and her hands tightened on his forearms.

“Goodnight, Ben.”  
  


~~  
  


“Hello?”

“Luke, it’s Amylin.”

“Yeah, so it turns out that they have these newfangled phones where the person’s name pops up when they call. It’s really something,” Luke Skywalker drawled, stirring chocolate syrup into his milk.

He qualified for a senior discount at the movie theater and he still hadn’t grown out of the stuff.

“Yes, they’re called smart phones,” Amylin replied testily, “But I wasn’t sure if  _ you  _ were smart enough to learn how to program one. Seeing as how you still watch VHS tapes.”

“Betamax.”

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

Luke smirked and changed the subject.

“Let me guess - you’re calling to threaten me with eternal damnation if I don’t show up at the next fundraiser?”

“When have you  _ ever  _ come to a fundraiser?”

“Never, but it doesn’t seem to stop the quarterly threats.”

She sighed and said wearily, “Actually, I’m just calling to let you know that Rey Niima will be on campus Friday for her interview. She just sent back the confirmation this morning.”

“Who?”

He could practically  _ hear  _ Amylin’s frown through the phone.

_ “Rey Niima _ . The prospective PhD candidate you promised to interview and potentially mentor.”

Luke had to think for a moment, then groaned, “I was hoping you’d forget I said yes - to the interview, anyway. I never said I’d mentor...”

“No, I didn’t forget. And I’m afraid I’m going to have to threaten you with eternal damnation if you try to get out of it at this point.”

“Relax,” Luke chuckled, “I said I’d do it, and I will. But you’re buying me dinner afterwards.”

“Fine, but not sushi. I don’t care how much you love it, I can’t stand the stuff.”

“Deal,” he agreed grudgingly, the prospect of free nagiri slipping through his fingers, “Now, let me hang up so I can program my long-awaited meeting with the illustrious Rey Niima into my oh-so-smart smartphone, as I’m wont to do.”

“Yeah, you do that. Ten sharp, and I don’t want to hear that your beater broke down on the way. That smartphone can also call a cab - or you can use the Uber app.”

“What’s Uber?”

“Oh, my God…”

“Also, what’s an app?”

“Goodbye, Luke.”

Luke snorted as she hung up on him.

 

~~

 

Sunday morning came, and they were forced to face reality again in more ways than one. 

Rey had to go home and get ready for her shift at Maz’s later that evening - he could hear her humming brightly in the shower from where he sat, half naked and still in sleep pants, on the bed.

Ben, on the other hand, was brought crashing back to Earth over breakfast when she’d squealed around her Cheerios and began frantically tapping on her phone.

“Good news?” he’d asked mildly, raising a brow, “Did you win the lottery? Has the Almighty answered your prayers about a Downton Abbey movie?”

She’d shot him a look and retorted, “They actually  _ are  _ making a Downton Abbey movie, but that’s old news, so joke’s on you.”

He’d slowly shaken his head and said, “I hope Finn is into cravates and cummerbunds, because I’m not taking you to that.”

Even though he knew he absolutely would.

“A cravate is just a necktie, you pleb,” she’d replied haughtily, “And yes, he’ll definitely take me because he’s into Maggie Smith. I mean, you know - not like  _ that _ ...”

“Please move on before the mental images start in earnest.”

“Alright, so,” she’d obliged, grinning and turning her phone to face him, “I just found a great deal on AirBnB - a studio in Brooklyn, available on short notice. Looks clean, convenient. I’m gonna book it before someone else does.”

For a minute he’d just stared at her, perplexed, and that’s when he remembered.

In the whirlwind of emotional catharsis and sex that had taken place over the weekend, he’d completely forgotten about the bit of ‘good’ news she’d shared with him on Friday at dinner - her offer from Princeton. Apparently things had moved fast after she’d finally acquiesced to letting him pay for her airfare, and the meeting was scheduled for Friday. She’d received the email confirming it over the weekend. Apparently

Now, sitting there and thinking about it in earnest, he wanted to be sick. 

Fucking  _ Princeton. _

Standing and wandering out of the bedroom, he went into the kitchen and peered into the fridge at the leftovers they had from the night before. He stared at small brown box that he knew contained the remainder of the chocolate cake they’d gotten for dessert. It was just one piece that they’d intended to share, but they hadn’t even gotten a few bites in before dessert had descended into making out like teenagers, which had progressed quickly to passionate fucking on his couch. 

It made his stomach churn to think about it, now that he remembered she was leaving - in an immediate and also a broader sense. He couldn’t help the irrational feeling of impending doom that was settling over him like a dark cloud. Like she was going to walk out his front door, get to that fucking place, change her mind about everything - about  _ him  _ \- and never come back.

He felt himself starting to panic a little and tried to calm himself before she was out of the shower. With a grunt of frustrated disgust, he rubbed his face and muttered, 

“Get a fucking grip, you dipshit.”

“What?”

He spun around to find her standing in the doorway dressed in the dress she’d been wearing when she’d crossed his threshold on Friday night, frowning at him in confusion.

“Nothing, talking to myself,” he answered dismissively before forcing a smile and teasing, “That had to be the fastest shower in the history of personal hygiene.”

She grinned and replied, “Well, I plan on taking a better one when I get home. That was just to make the walk of shame I’m going to have to make to the subway a bit less shameful.”

“I think that term only applies to one-night stands. This is just you heading home after an incredible weekend at your boyfriend’s place.”

At the sound of the official label coming from his mouth, her cheeks lit up like stoplights and she ducked her head.

“What?” he asked gently, shoving his own butterflies to the side.

“I’m just...glad, I guess. Glad we have this.”

He slowly closed the distance between them until he could reach out and cup her face in his hands.

“Then why the red face?”

She shrugged and hesitated for a moment before replying, “I’ve never had anything like this before. Not really.”

“Never had what?”

“A relationship. Or, at least, not a real one. Whatever that means.”

He pulled back from where he’d been pressing his lips to her forehead, startled. They hadn’t talked about their romantic pasts for obvious reasons, considering his history was horribly unorthodox and still a sensitive subject, but he was a bit surprised to realize that he hadn’t asked about hers, either.

He just hadn’t cared. It didn’t matter to him. She was with him, now.

“No?”

She shook her head and shrugged again before admitting sheepishly, “I think there were probably a couple of blokes who thought - but...no. It was never anything like...like this…”

Her voice trailed off as she stared at his lips, and Ben found himself hopelessly caught up in the heady knowledge that he was a first for her. Just as she was for him, in so many ways. He couldn’t help himself as he surged forward and captured her lips with his in a kiss that was meant to be tender but soon escalated into something  _ way  _ past tender as he poured his anxiety and desperation into it.

She dropped the bag she’d been holding and threw her arms around his neck at the same time that he hauled her against him, sweeping her mouth with his tongue and groaning at the way she whimpered. In the scant brainspace he had that was still functioning against the haze of unbridled want overtaking him, he thought to be careful not to tear her dress - as much as he desperately wanted to.

Stepping back, he quickly spun her around and pressed her against the island, grinding into her backside, unembarrassed of his already raging erection. She already knew how much he wanted her all the damn time, so what was the point of hiding it? She moaned and bent over, laying her forehead on the cool soapstone in silent supplication, surrendering herself to him.

His chest tightened almost painfully and he folded himself across her, chest to back, devouring the skin at the curve between her neck and shoulder as he growled,

“You’re so fucking sweet, Rey. Jesus Christ...”

She shuddered beneath him at the praise and what little control he’d been clinging to snapped. Rearing back, he yanked his pants down just far enough for his dick to spring free and shoved her dress up around her waist. 

She wasn’t wearing any underwear.

“You were gonna ride the subway like  _ this _ ?” he asked breathlessly, giving her ass a firm slap as a punctuation mark. She yelped and turned her head to look at him - he was relieved to see she was smiling and not glaring.

“Does it make you mad, or turn you on?” she asked.

In answer, he grasped himself and nudged at her entrance. She gasped as he pushed halfway in, then paused to take a breath before bottoming out. Bending and resting his head between her shoulder blades as he struggled not to just rut into her like a crazed animal, he took a few more deep breaths before straightening and smacking her once more for good measure. 

It was bolder than he’d been with her thus far, and the fact that she let him - and even seemed to like it - drove him  _ insane _ .

“You’re getting so good at taking me,” he murmured, and before she could reply, he grasped her shoulder in one hand and a hip in the other and held her firmly as he began to move.

His pace was frenzied and brutal, and she reached out and scrabbled at the countertop with her fingernails as he slammed into her, trying to keep her feet on the floor. Ben had spent the weekend making love to her as often as she’d let him, worshipping her body with his and ensuring that every touch conveyed the depth of his absolute adoration - but this was something different.

This was him staking his claim before she left, soothing his insecurities by making sure she would walk out of his place with bruises in the shape of his fingertips as a reminder. So that she’d be pleasantly sore all night and wouldn’t forget - she was his and he was hers, and they belonged to each other.

He might be acting like a feral, domineering beast at the moment, but he was still absolutely and irrevocably _ hers. _

He wanted her to carry that certainty with her, on her, all the way to goddamn Princeton.

“Oh, fuck,” he ground out, carding his fingers into her lush, still wet hair and twisting slightly as he pounded into her harder,  _ “Fuck.” _

She arched her back, panting, and he sped up briefly before abruptly slowing down. She gave a little whine of protest.

“You like this?” he asked earnestly, giving her a hard, pointed thrust as he spoke, pulling her hair gently so that her ear was tilted against his lips, “You like being fucked like this?”

“I like everything you do to me,” she breathed, and he nearly came right then and there - but he wasn’t letting her off the hook. He needed to hear it.

“Ask me,” he said, thrusting into her again and eliciting a soft grunt from her throat, “Ask me for anything and I’ll give it to you. You want it like this? Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I want it like this. Please, Ben…”

“Like what?” he demanded, his gentle tone belying the way his fingers tightened in her hair, “ _ Say _ it.”

“I want you to take me hard. Make sure I’m still feeling it for days…”

At this, he shoved her down against the soapstone and began thrusting again, hard and rough. The sounds she was making were pulling him quickly to the precipice of his own release, but he wouldn’t come without her. Pulling out, he dropped to his knees and silenced any protest she was about to make as he spread her cheeks and buried his face in her folds from behind.

She wailed his name, and he quickly reached down to fist himself as he felt his balls tighten dangerously. He wouldn’t come without her and he certainly wasn’t going to come outside of her, on his kitchen floor.

He supposed his well-honed skill for delaying his own release would still come in handy, after all.

Luckily, it didn’t take long until she was fluttering against his face as her orgasm overtook her and as soon as it had crested, he was on his feet and pushing back inside her. She looked over her shoulder at him and her eyes were shining with emotion - and that was what pushed him over. He’d barely thrust twice before he was spilling into her with a sound that was as close as he’d ever come to a snarl.

He remained seated in her for as long as he could, pressing desperate kisses over her neck and shoulders and running his hands over every bit of her skin he could reach until finally he softened and slipped free.

“Fuck, I don’t want you to go,” he blurted, his tongue loosened by the endorphin cocktail his brain was swimming in.

“I know,” she agreed, straightening as he stepped away from her and arranging herself into something halfway decent again, “I wish I didn’t have to, but I can’t leave Maz hanging...”

“No, I mean I don’t want you to go to fucking Princeton.”

She froze, frowning at him, and he felt his stomach drop. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud - but he had, and now there was no taking it back. He knew he had to say something - she was going to think he was a clingy, pathetic moron if he didn’t clarify.

She’d pull away from him if she thought he was trying to dictate her choices or control her, and he couldn’t let that happen.

“What?” she said, her voice steady and guarded, “Why?”

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, running both hands through his hair and chewing on the insides of his cheeks as he tried to figure out how the fuck to say what he now had to say to her, “It’s not that I don’t want you to take the opportunity, or grab your chance to do something you’ve always dreamed about. That’s not what I meant, I just…”

“What do you have against Princeton, anyway?” she asked quietly, studying him shrewdly, “I remember now - when I told you about the call, at dinner on Friday. You sounded odd then, too.”

“Yeah,” he nodded resignedly, unable to meet her searching gaze, “Look, I didn’t want to go into this before you left - or at all, really, unless you ended up getting accepted. I figured I’d have more time to get my thoughts together, and…”

“Ben,” she interrupted firmly but not unkindly, “Just tell me what’s bothering you. Is it because you’re afraid I’ll just pick up and leave…?”

“No,” he interrupted, a tad harshly, and then closed his eyes, “No, I know you wouldn’t.”

“What, then?” she asked gently, “Are you worried I’ll die in a plane crash or something?”

He frowned at her and replied testily, “I wasn’t  _ before _ , but thanks for that.”

“Come on,” she prodded, and he finally relented and said quietly,

“I have - a history with Princeton. A long, shitty one.”

“A history?” she repeated, confused, “I thought you went to Stanford?”

“I did,” he said on an exhale, “For undergrad. I did my Master’s at Princeton, and then I taught some classes there while I was working on my PhD.”

She blinked up at him, looking like he’d just smacked her in the face, “You were a  _ professor?” _

He shrugged, reddening and shifting on his feet as he struggled with the insane urge to just turn and run out the front door, “No. Just a lecturer. I co-taught with one of the university’s established professors for a couple years. But…”

“You’re joking,” she interrupted, obviously flabbergasted and more than a little unnerved, “But you said - you told me you went to Stanford and that’s where you met Snoke. You said…”

“I know what I said, and I didn’t  _ lie  _ to you,” he insisted angrily, his anxiety and his temper beginning to get the better of him, “I went to Stanford, met Snoke, and we kept in touch over the time I was at Princeton. I was there about four years, and then I had a falling out with the university.”

“A falling out?”

“The professor I was teaching with - we didn’t get along. We didn’t agree on anything, not ideologically or practically. He - one day it blew up, and he destroyed my life over it. Got me kicked out of the PhD program, fired from teaching - I lost my on-campus housing. I lost everything, and that’s why I moved back to California.”

It wasn’t the whole truth - not even close, and the pit in his stomach was a stark reminder. Part of him wanted to just tell her everything at once, to rip off the band-aid, but he found he couldn’t. The words just wouldn’t come.

He wasn’t ready. He hadn’t had enough time to figure out how to tell the story, hadn’t gotten a chance to center himself enough to mentally cast himself back to the darkest days of his fucking life - so he could dredge it all up and lay it at the feet of the girl he loved.

Rey just stared for a moment, then sank onto the stool behind her and breathed, “Ben, I had no idea…”

“You couldn’t have,” he said quietly, stepping closer to her and tucking a stray hair behind her ear, “I never told you.”

“Why didn’t you?” she asked, sounding pained, “You could have, you know. Just because I'm considering the place doesn't mean...”

He shook his head and replied, “That would have been a dick move, Rey. You’re celebrating the fact that you got this opportunity, and instead of saying ‘congratulations’, I shit all over it with my sob story?”

“It’s just - I wish I’d known, or I wouldn’t have thrown it in your face the way I did. I was just thrilled to get the opportunity, but I didn’t know....”

“I’m sorry. I should have said something sooner. It’s just - not easy to talk about,” he admitted, gruff, “Not a story I bring up at parties, you know?”

She quirked a brow and teased wanly, “You know you don’t go to parties.”

He huffed a small laugh and replied, “Yeah, and now you know why. I’m a fucked up, bitter, emotionally unstable asshole. Not that you didn’t know it before, but…”

“Stop,” she commanded, her eyes shining suspiciously, “Don’t say things like that about yourself. I can’t stand it when you do that.”

His heart melted at her words, and he reached out to grasp her wrist and gently pull her up and against him. Wrapping his arms around her and shivering at the feel of her head tucking under his chin, he murmured, 

“Rey, you know me better than anyone ever has, but...there are still things I haven’t talked about. Things I - when you hear them, I’m not sure you’ll…”

“It’s okay,” she said, her voice muffled by his chest, “We don’t need to talk about all of it right now, if you’re not ready, Ben. Whatever happened - it’s in the past, and dwelling on awful things that happened to you is useless when you can’t change them. Trust me on that one.”

He pulled back a little to run his knuckles across her cheek as she looked up at him.

“We’ve both got scars, I guess,” he said, lowering his head to kiss her. They stood there for a minute, lips brushing, until he broke away and shook his head, “Anyway - I take it back. Or maybe I never meant it in the first place.”

“What?”

“About not wanting you to go. I do - you can’t pass up the chance because of me.”

She hesitated, obviously struggling, and began, “Ben…”

“No, I mean it,” he assured her, even though his insides were screaming at him to tell her that the thought of her stepping foot on that campus was eating him alive, “Go. You’re gonna fucking slay them.”

Rey bit her lip and replied, “What if they offer me the position, though? I - what’ll we do? You won’t want to…”

“Let’s just cross that bridge when we come to it,” he said flatly, giving her a final hug before he effectively ended the conversation by insisting, “And I’m driving you home.”

“You don’t have to drive me,” she admonished, grabbing up her bag from the floor, “I’m more than capable of taking the subway. Really.”

“As much as I enjoyed teasing you about it when I had you bent over the countertop,” he cut her off with a dark look, “There’s no way in hell I’m letting you ride the subway in the middle of the day with no fucking underwear on. It’s just not gonna happen, so…”

She shook her head and replied, “Well, go get dressed then, because I have to get going. And you should shave, too.”

“Wow,” he drawled, reaching up to rub his admittedly rough faceful of stubble, “Are you supposed to be this bossy already? Is that how serious relationships work?”

“I wouldn’t know,” she smirked, “I just know you’re giving me beard burn every time you…”

Her chiding ended in a loud squeal as he grabbed her, lifted her easily so that her chest was face-level and began rubbing his chin across her collarbone, which her fancy dress left conveniently exposed.

“Ben!” she yelped, “I’ll have marks all over me!”

“Good.”

“Good?” she repeated incredulously, pushing at his shoulders.

“Yep,” he smirked mercilessly, “You’re mine, and I hope everyone notices.”

She squealed and pulled her hands from his to pinch at his ribs, laughing as she exclaimed,

“You utter neanderthal!”

He caught her around the waist as she tried to squirm away and a brief wrestling match ensued. He was going to let her win, but it turned out that his little Rey fought dirty and he didn’t get a chance to  _ let  _ her do anything. Elbowing him in the solar plexus, she took advantage of his momentary loss of breath to skirt around the island, pointing at him and breathless with laughter.

“Go get dressed, or I’m getting on the subway whether you like it or not.”

He held up his hands, rubbing his side where she’d elbowed him, and muttered, “Alright, alright. Give me five minutes.”

He turned to head to the bedroom, actively vowing to avoid thinking about their conversation for as long as possible - which, he knew, meant until she asked for more details on the how and why, which he was dreading worse than his own death at the moment - but stopped before he could leave the room as she called out to him.

“Ben?”

He turned to look back at her, a momentary flash of panic jolting through him at the worried expression on her face - but then she continued,

“Maybe you could come and visit me later? At work?”

His lips quirked, betraying his delight that she was apparently as loathe to part company as he was, and replied, “I was thinking about it. I didn’t want to smother you, though.”

She blew out a relieved breath and added, “Maybe then you could come home with me?”

His heart stuttered. He wondered if it would ever stop doing that when it came to her.

“Time to christen your apartment now, Rey?”

His voice, purposely pitched low and rough, sent a satisfying shudder through her that he could see from across the room. Smiling slightly, she replied,

“Basically, yeah.”

He grinned, “I’m in.”

 

 

~~

 

He sat by himself later that evening, nursing a beer and lost in a maelstrom of thoughts.

He thought, for the first time in years, about Princeton. About the hope he’d felt when he walked that campus, the promise that his connections in academia had once held for him. The expectations that eventually crushed him under their weight.

The nights he spent holed away in his shitty on-campus apartment, lights off and pupils blown as he chased the ghost of his grandfather. About the euphoria that came with a rush of opioids to the brain, or the exhilaration of a good trip. Flying high on a good dose of ecstacy - whatever it took to relinquish his insecurities and inhibitions - to be free of the mental and emotional chains holding him back. Snoke's encouragement along the way.

Like Anakin Skywalker had on his way to the Pulitzer.

And then the crash, later. The puking, the sweats, the shakes. The pain and shame that would inevitably come rushing back like a tidal wave, flattening him - but also allowing him to descend to the place he had to go in order to inject his work with the raw emotion it needed to stand apart.

He remembered, with a lump in his throat, the day his uncle had found him slumped in his tiny office, unconscious and covered in vomit, his working draft clutched in his hand. The way he’d called the ambulance, then had promptly left him there and gone to the administration to report him.

He cut off his rambling train of thought before he could begin to cycle through the excruciating, all-encompassing nightmare that followed. It was too much, and it would send him off the rails. 

Standing, he went to the kitchen and tossed the bottle in the recycling bin before grabbing up his coat, keys and duffel bag. He was just about to walk out the door, eager to see Rey, when his cell phone rang in his pocket. Frowning, he fished it out and glanced at the screen.

_ Mother. _

Slowly, he drew a breath. The universe - and his mother - had a way of demonstrating appalling timing. He had already spent the past couple of hours wading through a miasma of bad memories, and the last thing he wanted to do was talk to Leia Organa right then.

Nevertheless, he sighed as he pressed the accept button and brought his phone to his ear.

“Mom.”

“Oh, you picked up,” she quipped, “I’m -”

“Can we skip the usual song and dance about how shocked you are that I didn’t let it go to voicemail?” he snapped, “Because all that does is discourage me from picking up next time.”

There was a pregnant pause, and then she asked, “What’s wrong?”

He flinched - he was being too volatile. He needed to be less transparent.

“Nothing.”

“Whatever you say, Ben,” she sighed, then said, “I was just calling to check in. I’m scheduled to be in LA this weekend, and I thought we could grab lunch. Before you answer, give me a second to brace myself for the inevitable rejection.”

He rolled his eyes and replied, “I can’t this weekend, Mom. I have stuff going on.”

“Like?”

Frowning, he retorted, “Why, are you gonna decide whether my shit is important enough to blow you off?”

“Language,” she drawled, “And at least you’re admitting you’re blowing me off.”

Wanting to get off the phone and not really thinking about what he was saying, he muttered, “I’m not even gonna be around this weekend. I’m going out of town.”

“Oh?” she asked, perking up a bit, “Where? For what?”

“I’m...spending a couple nights in New York, actually,” he lied, “My girlfriend has an interview set up, and I’m…”

“Your girlfriend?”

Ben froze, then let his eyes slide closed. So much for getting off the phone quickly. Fuck him and his big mouth. The hopeful note in his mother’s voice would, in the past, have filled him with a kind of impotent rage. At the idea that she thought there was any chance in hell that he’d be in a relationship with someone, at the knowledge that she’d just be disappointed once again when he cut her down for it.

Now, it sent a strange flutter through his chest. Something that felt distinctly like pride.

“Yes, mother. Listen, I have to get going.”

“Where’d you meet her?” she asked, ignoring him. He sighed.

“A bar. Mom, can we please not…”

“A bar. How classic,” she drawled, then huffed and asked bluntly, “And she’s  _ okay  _ with what you do for a living?”

He bristled and opened his mouth to tell her to cram her questions, but thought better of it. Instead he simply said,

“I don’t - do that anymore. I quit.”

This time, the pause in conversation lasted so long that he thought she might have actually had a heart attack.

“Hello?”

“You quit?” she repeated, sounding raspy, “That’s - good. Very good. What finally made you…?”

“She did,” he cut her off, his voice quiet but clear.

He allowed her another moment to absorb everything, but tilted his head back and sighed at what he thought was the sound of a sniffle. After a few seconds, Leia spoke again.

“Why don’t you two stay at the Upper East Side apartment?”

He stiffened.

“What? No, that’s not…”

“Oh, Benjamin, for once can you not be dramatic about everything?” she snarked, “Why should you pay for accommodations when there’s a perfectly good - even gorgeous - apartment in the middle of Manhattan that’s vacant and ready to use? The tenant that was renting it was some bigwig whose visa expired in October - I’ve already had the place cleaned. Just go ahead and use it, will you?”

He opened his mouth to tell her thanks but no thanks - and then he stopped and thought about it. The apartment was in one of the best neighborhoods in the city, and it would be free for Rey to use. She wouldn’t have to spend money on a place to stay, which she’d appreciate, and she’d have easy access to everything.

As much as he hated to accept the offer from his mother, he had to admit that he relished the opportunity to make things easier for Rey.

Or maybe it was selfish - maybe he was just trying to maintain some small semblance of control over a situation that he felt insecure about. Either way.

“Fine,” he agreed resignedly, “I’ll suggest it. She may not want to go along with it, though - she’s really independent, and hates having decisions made for her or taking what she perceives as charity from people.”

“Sounds like I’m gonna like this girl,” his mother mused, “Maybe one day you can introduce me. If we ever find ourselves in the same town again.”

Ben swallowed and said noncommittally, “Yeah. Maybe.”

After a beat of somewhat strained silence, Leia blew out a breath and declared,

“Well, I’ve gotta go. I have a speech to deliver in a half hour and it’s only half-written. But I’m glad you finally got rid of that worm Snoke, and - I’m glad to hear you’re in a good place, Ben.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, thinking that not much had changed as she rushed him off the phone, and added as an afterthought, “Thanks for offering the apartment.”

“Anytime.”

With that, she hung up, and he ran out the door and headed to Maz’s, trying to ignore the pit in his stomach that was telling him that he was playing with fire. 

He had some convincing to do. Which would be even more difficult than it would have been normally, considering he himself wasn't fully convinced this was a good idea.

 

~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: references to underage sex and sexual coercion (both parties minors, not explicitly described), depression, drug use and overdose.
> 
> Thanks again to everyone who has left kudos, comments, lovely messages on Tumblr, recced this fic to their friends/followers or has simply kept this story bookmarked as they wait patiently for the updates. I appreciate you all so much, you have no idea.
> 
> The ball is rolling now, so I'll try and be quicker with the next update!


	16. Spiraling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning - this chapter is a BEAST. It's the longest one so far, because I couldn't figure out a good place to split it. However, it's a lot of dialogue, so there's that.
> 
> Sorry for the ridiculous delay between updates. I am winding down to the conclusion here, I'm thinking maybe two more chapters and an epilogue. Here's hoping you all enjoy where this is going, and as always, thank you so much for the lovely feedback on the last chapter - I wish I could respond to everyone!
> 
> Trigger warnings in this chapter for depression, shades of codependency, anxiety, and anger issues. Also references to drug use and overdose (past). Oh and also, a sex scene that's not what I would call dub-con, but it might be a little...abrupt. In other words, this chapter is rough for everyone.
> 
> Any mistakes are mine because I won't blame my poor beta, who has read this chapter in various incarnations like a million times. Apologies in advance if you find any inconsistency or repetition!

Over the years, Ben had become adept at compartmentalization. It had been a necessary task, because his thoughts tended to become overwhelming during times of stress - and when he became overwhelmed, he spiraled.

The task, however, had been easier before, when all he had to do was protect his own sanity. Now, though, he had much more on the line. Suddenly, his life was filled to the brim with things he could not live without.

Namely, Rey and everything she brought to his life.

When she’d said she’d been granted an interview at Princeton, he’d managed to tamp down his knee-jerk reaction - which, of course, was rage. He’d spent days convincing himself that it would be alright, that if absolutely necessary he could handle the idea of her on that campus - the setting of a good chunk of his recurring nightmares - and potentially entering a program there.

He swiftly and systematically shoved away every thought of what he would do if that scenario came to fruition, what he’d be willing to put himself through for her. He’d been bound and determined to do exactly what he’d said to her when she’d asked him, after his partial-confession the other day - to simply take it one step at a time.

It couldn’t last - his control. He knew it wouldn’t, even though he’d done everything he could to keep it together.

He was spiraling into that familiar dark place, and there was nothing he could do to stop it now.

It was like clouds gathering in his head, signaling the impending storm. It had happened to him before, many times, and he knew exactly what it felt like. The haze of nebulous despair that didn’t really have a source or a shape, but twisted low in his gut like a fist that refused to let go. The shards of rage that pierced through occasionally, but that he didn’t have the energy to act on.

With it came the cravings - the desperate impulse to regress, to turn to chemical comfort. To allow himself the relief of oblivion, even just for a short while.

He’d always managed to pull himself back from the brink, and he’d do so again. It just wasn’t easy - it was a battle, and it was one that left him spent and useless.

And now, there was somebody to bear witness to this behavior - and not just somebody, the woman he loved. The woman who loved _him_ and who, he admitted to himself in a sick rush of self-loathing, would be hurt by the torment he imposed on himself.

He didn't know what he'd do if she got the offer, and he was relatively sure she would. He couldn't see himself ever going back to that place.

He couldn't lose Rey.

He was being torn apart.

Even still, he managed to sound relatively normal when he spoke to her over the couple of days before she left. His texts betrayed nothing of his mental state, and he made sure to never leave her without a response for long. She was working as much as she could in the days leading up to her trip so that she would have some extra pocket money - having steadfastly refused his offer of his black card - so they hadn’t actually seen each other since the night he’d spent at her place.

He remembered the way she’d kissed him goodbye as he’d left her to her preparations, late the following morning. She’d had some strawberries with her tea, and her mouth had tasted like heaven.

It made him want to drag her back to bed, but he didn’t. Instead he flashed her a smile and left, returning home to his empty apartment to pull on sweats and crash in front of the TV.

He’d barely moved since - and that’s how she found him when she came by, as promised, to have breakfast with him before he drove her to the airport to catch her flight east.

 

~~

 

“Ben?” she called as she used the key he’d given her. She assumed, since he didn’t pick up his phone, that he’d overslept and figured she’d just let herself in.

The darkness inside his flat was disorienting - the blinds were all drawn shut, and there wasn’t a light on in the entire place. It felt like he wasn’t even home. Had he forgotten?

She stepped inside and made her way toward the living area, and noticed a few other odd things - the random items of clothing lying on the floor, the empty bottles scattered around.

“Ben?” she called again, and finally heard him stir.

“Hey,” he croaked, sitting up on the couch.

She almost gasped when she saw him - he looked awful. His hair was a greasy mess, his eyes bloodshot with dark circles underneath them and his clothes rumpled. As she got closer and got a whiff of him, she realized he must not have showered in days.

“What’s wrong?” she asked urgently, coming to sit on the coffee table across from him, “Are you ill?”

She stifled the urge to press her hand to his forehead.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled, scrubbing his face and squinting listlessly at the meager light filtering through the blinds, “Just tired.”

“Oh,” she said quietly, biting her lip, “I’m - sorry if I woke you. I thought we were having breakfast, but…”

“Oh, shit, is it Thursday already?” he hissed, letting his eyes slide shut again and dropping his head on the back of the sofa, “Fuck, sorry. I didn’t realize...”

“Ben,” she intoned gently, leaning forward and clutching his knee, “Are you alright? Has something happened?”

He gave her an inscrutable look, then sighed and muttered, “I’m just not feeling great. That’s all.”

“Okay, well, do you want to just…?”

“How long do you have?” he cut her off.

She blinked and replied, “About an hour. Maybe a little longer. I can get some coffee and eggs going, if you…”

He abruptly shot to his feet, closing his hands around her arms and pulling her with him. Before she could ask where he was going, he leaned down and crushed his mouth to hers. Their teeth clacked together as he kissed her, his breath stale with the lingering taste of sleep and whiskey.

“Hey,” she whispered, pulling back a bit, but he wasn’t allowing it. He brought his hands to her face, holding her steady as he devoured her lips, then nipped his way down the column of her neck and back up again.

She fisted her hands in his shirt, swaying under the sudden rush of need, and couldn’t hold back a whimper when he came back up to lightly bite her lower lip between his teeth with a growl. He plunged his tongue into her mouth, tasting her, and then all at once he grabbed her hand and pulled her behind him toward his bedroom.

“Come on,” he said, so urgently it almost came across as terse. She let him take the lead.

He brought her to his unmade bed and physically lifted her onto it before falling to his knees and rucking up the skirt she’d put on. Hooking his fingers into her plain underwear, he pulled them roughly off of her before diving between her legs and burying his mouth in her pussy.

“Ah!” she exclaimed, half-aroused and half-apprehensive, “Jesus, Ben…”

He hummed, then grabbed her thighs and shoved her further back on the bed as he doubled down. He ate her out with such gusto that she was coming within a matter of minutes, panting and pulling at his hair to get him to stop. For a moment, she didn’t think he was going to, but finally he obliged. Getting to his feet and setting one knee on the bed as he loomed over her, he shoved his sweat pants down and pulled his dick out, perfunctorily stroking the hard length of it a couple of times. She stared up at him as he crawled over her, his eyes wild and dark.

Almost menacing, and tinged with a desperation that took her aback.

“Ben…”

“Shh,” he silenced her as he lined himself up and began to push inside her, “Shh...”

She let him, placing her hands on his shoulders and exhaling slowly as he stretched her. She didn’t know what had come over him, but it seemed like he needed this - needed to be close to her like this. She didn’t have the heart to push him away, even though it didn’t feel quite right to her.

In the end, the encounter wasn’t romantic or loving or hot. It was hurried and artless as he dug his long fingers into her arse and surged into her a handful of times before coming inside her with a broken groan.

They lay there for a long minute after it was over, the silence of the dim room broken only by the sound of their breathing. Finally, he pulled out with a shudder and rolled over onto his back, throwing his arm over his eyes and swallowing hard.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

She opened her mouth to tell him it was fine, but thought better of it - because really, it wasn’t fine. Because he obviously wasn't fine, and she hated seeing him like this. Propping herself up on her elbow, wincing as she felt his spend leak out of her with the movement and praying that none of it got on her nice skirt, she said softly,

“That wasn’t like you.”

He swallowed again, but still wouldn’t look at her.

“I know. I’m…”

“I’m not angry,” she assured him quickly, reaching out and putting a hand on his chest, “I just...I want you to tell me what’s wrong. Is it that I’m leaving today for Princeton, or...?”

“I just get like this sometimes,” he interrupted, his voice flat, “I told you this. It’s just a thing that happens, and I deal with it. I’ll be fine in a few days.”

“But isn’t there anything I can do? To help?”

“You’re leaving,” he said brusquely, sitting up suddenly and tucking himself back into his trousers before continuing in a more modulated tone, “You have your interview to think about, Rey. Just focus on that, alright?”

“But…”

“I’ll be fine,” he assured her, turning and finally meeting her gaze with an unconvincing half-smile, “By the time you get back on Saturday, I’ll be normal again.”

She frowned and repeated, “Normal?”

His features hardened and he gave his head a little shake before holding his hand out to help her to her feet. She decided it might be best to not press him and took it, smoothing her skirt as she stood.

“Is there anything - you know. On me?”

“No,” he replied, but he wasn’t even looking - his eyes were fixed on her face, still swimming with a plethora of emotions that Rey couldn’t even begin to pick apart.

“Okay, well,” she shrugged, tentative and unsure, “I just need to use the, um…”

She thumbed at the bathroom and he nodded before shoving his hands in his pockets and asking,

“You have time for coffee, or no?”

The truth, as jarring as it was to admit it to herself, was that all she wanted to do just then was to get the hell out of that flat and the unbearably weird vibe that he was giving off. She knew she should be trying to get to the bottom of it, that she should be asking more questions - but she just couldn’t. She didn’t know what the right questions were, and every attempt she’d made this far had resulted in him promptly shutting her down.

So, even though she probably did have time, she shook her head and smiled wanly.

“I should probably get to the airport. I hate rushing through the security checks.”

“Yeah,” he replied gruffly, and if he knew she was lying, he didn’t let on.

“But, um - did you want to get dressed while I freshen up? I won’t be long.”

“Actually,” he said, slowly and without meeting her eyes, “I thought it might be faster if I just call an Uber for you.”

Her heart sank as they stood there, some kind of wall having sprung up between them that she didn’t know how to scale. Drawing a breath, she replied,

“Yeah, sure. Of course.”

Fifteen minutes later, she was collecting her luggage and walking back out his front door with a chaste kiss and a tepid goodbye that would have been more appropriate between strangers than lovers. Before she could get to the elevator, however, she felt his large hand clamp around her arm and spin her around.

He stared at her for a second, his eyes burning, before cupping her face and bringing his lips to hers for a tender, passionate kiss that felt like the Ben she knew breaking through whatever fog he was in. He pulled back and kissed her forehead, then rasped,

“Call me when you get there, okay?”

“Course I will,” she laughed, relieved beyond measure that they managed to end on a good note.

“Sorry I’m being such an asshole,” he whispered, then stepped back and forced her to meet his gaze, “I’ll get over it, I promise. I love you. I mean it, I wanna hear from you the second you land, okay?”

“Yep,” she said, giving him a thumbs up, and he let his eyes roam her face before kissing her again, lingering and more than a little needy.

“Quote Shakespeare for me,” he rumbled.

She frowned and pulled back, “What?”

“Come on,” he said, his smile wavering, “For old time’s sake.”

“Are you serious?”

“It’s what made me fall in love with you,” he pleaded, and she couldn’t help feeling like he was still off - still acting like this was their final goodbye and he was never going to see her again, before he added, “Please?”

She pursed her lips and thought for a moment before reciting, “I love you more than words can wield the matter - dearer than eyesight, space and liberty.”

He practically melted into her as he kissed her again, then murmured against her lips, “Hear my soul speak - of the very instant that I saw you, did my heart fly at your service.”

She laughed, taking him by the wrists and pulling his hands from her face as she pecked him once more on the jaw and said, “You’re absolutely ridiculous, you big, over-educated, adorable oaf. And I have to go. The uber has probably left by now.”

“I’m sorry I’m not driving you,” he said, letting his hands fall to his sides, “I just…”

“Ben, it’s okay,” she insisted, smiling, “I’ll call you when I land, I promise.”

He nodded, and then stood there watching her as she hauled her suitcase into the elevator and waved at him. He waved back, but the way his face crumpled just before the elevator doors closed had her heart twisting with worry all over again.

On impulse, she pulled out her phone and called Finn. He picked up after a couple of rings, his voice groggy.

“If you weren’t my best friend, I’d be saying something really rude to you right now.”

“You say rude things to me all the time.”

“Okay, well, in that case - you know it’s seven in the goddamn morning, right?”

“Sorry,” she replied, sincere, and then continued, “But I need help, and I didn’t know who else to call.”

“What’s up?” he asked, sounding distinctly more awake, “Did something happen with your flight?”

“No, it’s - well, it’s Ben.”

“He was gonna drive you, right? Is he not anymore?”

“No, I’m taking an Uber.”

“Shit. What happened? I don’t have a car, but maybe Rose can...”

“Finn, forget that, that’s not why I called. I don’t mind taking the Uber - it’s Ben. I’m worried about him.”

A pause, and then, “What do you mean? Why?”

“I was just up at his place to have breakfast before I left, and he - he’s not himself. Something’s wrong, and now I have to leave, and…”

“What do you mean, ‘not himself’? What happened?”

She blushed, clearly not about to recount the morning to Finn, and deflected, “He just seems out of it. He’s acting strange - I think he’s depressed, and he was really curt and weird with me.”

“Right,” Finn chortled, “That guy, curt and weird and gloomy? Rey, I hate to break it to you, but that _is_ him acting like himself. The way he acts around you? _That’s_ when he’s not himself.”

She stilled as she got into the Uber, stunned for a moment, before retorting, “I thought you said you had a change of heart about him.”

“Yeah, I did, to an extent,” he replied, “I like how he treats you, and I think he genuinely cares about you, which is a good thing. He doesn’t treat me like shit anymore, but again, that’s mostly about you and not me. I’m just saying - people don’t completely change who they are, and Kylo Ren was always a raging asshole.”

She stiffened and bit out, “That’s not who he is anymore.”

Finn sighed, then said, “Whatever you say. Look, I’m not trying to dump on the guy or the thing you’ve got going with him, but I don’t want you to get a rude awakening one day, either. Although it sounds like you just did.”

“Listen,” she said firmly, “Don’t worry about me. I didn’t call to get a lecture, I just wanted to ask you if you’d - I don’t know, invite him out for a beer or something later.”

There was a long silence, and then Finn asked incredulously, “Me?”

“You’ve done it before. He told me.”

“Yeah, well, that was...different. Rey, I mean, yeah, I've definitely warmed up to him since he's been with you, but I'm still not really best buddies with the dude…”

“I know, but he doesn’t really have anybody else. I thought maybe it’d be good for him to get out of the flat, have some company, you know?”

“I don’t think he'd appreciate it, Rey. It’d be weird…”

“Just - just ask, will you? Please? The worst he can say is no.”

Snorting, Finn grumbled, “Take it from me, that is _so_ not the worst he could say.”

“Finn…”

“Alright, alright,” he conceded defeat, “I’ll text him later. I wouldn’t get your hopes up, though. Odds that he’s gonna say yes are slim to none, and he’s gonna know you put me up to it.”

“That’s fine,” she replied, relieved, “Thanks, yeah?”

“No problem,” he muttered, then asked, “Can I go back to sleep now?”

She laughed, “Yeah, go on.”

“Hey, good luck, okay? Call me after and tell me how it went!”

“Will do."

With that, she hung up and tried to push aside the anxiety swirling in her stomach about Ben, staring out the window of the Uber as it sped toward the airport and shifting her thoughts to the impending interview that may or may not be about to change the course of her entire life.

 

~~

 

Rey slowed in her mad dash across campus, digging her phone out of her purse and seeing that it was Ben calling. She answered, out of breath and a little flustered.

“I thought you said you were gonna call to check in when you got off the train.”

He sounded vaguely upset, his voice sharp.

“Sorry,” she apologized half-heartedly, picking up her pace again, her eyes watering as wind blasted her in the face, “The train got delayed a couple of times and I was sort of rushing around like a lunatic trying to get here on time.”

“You’re on campus?”

“Yes,” she panted, “Just trying to find the right building. Maybe you can help me out? I’m supposed to be meeting Holdo in the library.”

A pause, and then he snorted derisively and replied, “There are ten libraries on that campus. You wanna be more specific?”

She frowned at his tone, unable to stop herself from snapping, “The _main_ one, Ben. I don’t know who it’s dedicated to, okay? Sorry if I don’t know all the bloody nuances of this place yet…”

“Firestone is the main library,” he interrupted, sounding as annoyed as she felt, “It’s on Nassau and Washington.”

She scurried over to a campus map that was about twenty feet from her and then cursed.

“Shit! I’m all the way over by the stadium!”

“You’d better run, then.”

“Yeah, thanks for that,” she grumbled, then hiked her bag over her shoulder and said, “Listen, it’s hard to talk and run at the same time, so maybe I can just call you after?”

“Your friend Finn texted me earlier,” he said out of nowhere, and she blew out a breath.

“Yeah?”

“So, what? Did you call and tell him that you left me wallowing like a pig in shit, and that someone needed to save me from myself?”

“Pigs _like_ to wallow in shit,” she grit out, her lungs burning, “You seemed miserable. So, yeah, I told him to text you if he was planning on going out tonight. So what?”

“I don’t need your fucking pity, and I certainly don’t need fucking Finn to pretend we’re friends to make you feel less guilty,” he snarled.

Rey stopped short, her heart clamoring in her chest both from running and now from his assault. She recognized his superficial accusations as someone desperately searching for a fight. Well, she couldn’t provide him with a target for his raging temper right now, she decided, starting up at a run again.

“Fine, then don’t go,” she panted into the phone, her eyes darting over the buildings she passed, looking for the one she wanted.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” he barked.

Still distracted with searching for the library building, she begged, “Why the hell are you doing this right now, Ben? You seriously want to pick a fight with me when I’m about to head into the most important interview of my life?”

“Yeah, that’s right, how could I forget,” he laughed bitterly, “You’ve got a date with goddamn _Princeton.”_

There it was. Princeton's main library. She had seen it in photographs, she remembered, and despite the turmoil inside of her, she felt an excited chill race through her. Its stone tower rose up into the sky like a beacon. She proceeded doggedly toward it even as her boyfriend was melting down in her ear.

“Let me know if the people there are still the pompous, pretentious bastards they were when I was there…”

“Right, I‘m not doing this right now. I’ve waited my entire life for this, Ben, I _cannot_ afford to -“

“Yeah, I know, to lose your fucking opportunity!” he roared, suddenly unhinged, sending a jolt of genuine fear down her spine, “Well, you know what? Fuck it. Go ahead, scrape and bow and beg for the chance to be a part of that piece of shit place. I’m sure you’ll fit right in.”

Tears sprung to her eyes as she came to a halt at the building, and it’s beautiful exterior blurred in her vision. He’d never spoken to her like this before, _ever._ The fact that he was doing it now, at what felt like the start of something amazing in her life, was like a crushing blow to her heart. Unable to scrounge up the courage to say anything more to him, she simply pulled her phone from her ear and with shaking fingers, pressed the red x on the screen to end the call before turning it off completely.

Then she steeled herself. It would have to wait, she decided at once. _He_ would have to wait - just a couple hours. She would put it far from her mind because it was what she needed to do to make it through this. That was all, and then she’d deal with everything.

Choking back a sob, she dashed up the steps of what she was now sure was Firestone Library, and hastily wiped her tears away before reaching for the door handle with minutes to spare.

 

~~

 

She was sitting in the Trustee Reading Room where she’d been instructed to wait, when a man’s voice interrupted her.

“You’re here to interview?”

Rey’s head shot up and she was met with a pair of weary blue eyes.

“Yes?”

His gaze flickered over her, not _quite_ judgmentally, before he jerked his bearded chin toward the double doors through which she’d entered the building.

“Yeah, I could tell. You stick out like a sore thumb. Come on, let’s walk.”

She was left to stare at his retreating back. Frowning slightly, she quickly gathered up her things and slung her bag over her shoulder, gaping as the man let the door swing shut right in her face. Pulling it open, she rushed to catch up to him, now thoroughly annoyed.

“I’m sorry,” she said testily as she pulled up beside him, “But I didn’t catch your name.”

“That’s because I didn’t give it to you.”

At this, Rey’s frown turned into a glare.

“I’m afraid you must have me confused with somebody else. I’m here to see…”

“You’re Rey Niima, and you’re here to see Amylin Holdo. I know exactly who you are.”

She stopped short - and he didn’t, so she quickly started walking again.

“Yes, that’s - where is she? Doctor Holdo?”

“She was supposed to greet you and explain how this is gonna work, but she came down with something and couldn’t be here today,” the man explained, then muttered to himself, “I’ll bet she just didn’t want to pay for lunch.”

“I’m sorry?”

The man sighed and shot her a look before replying, “I’m sure you are, Miss Niima. I don’t blame you. Now please, after you. I’d normally give you the courtesy of an interview in the privacy of my office, but I don’t have one anymore.”

“You don’t?” she asked stupidly, walking through the door he was holding - which, she quickly realized when she looked around and once again got her bearings, was the main door to the chapel - as he went on,

“I don’t technically work here anymore. I’m just conducting your interview as a favor to Doctor Holdo because - well, I don’t know. I guess maybe I still have kind of a crush on her.”

Rey turned to look at him, trying to gauge whether or not he was kidding, but didn’t get a chance as he brushed past her and settled into a pew to their left. She slid in after him, the lingering scents of old wood, burning candles and incense mingling in the air.

This was not how she thought this day was gonna go.

“I guess I should probably introduce myself, huh? Like I said, I’m an emeritus here, but apparently when we receive an application as impressive as yours, they pull out all the stops. And the emerituses,” he smirked, then held out a grizzled hand and said, “I’m Luke Skywalker.”

The name hit her like an physical blow. Not the first one she’d received already that day, and she had a sinking feeling it wouldn’t be the last.

_Skywalker._

Bits of recalled conversation flew through her mind - more than enough for her to make the connection.

_“They sent me off to boarding school for most of the year and then to my uncle’s shitty creative writing camp every summer…”_

_“I co-taught with one of the university’s established professors for a couple years…”_

_“We didn’t get along…one day it blew up, and he destroyed my life over it…”_

_“What do you know about Anakin Skywalker?”_

_“He was my grandfather…”_

Rey wasn’t listening to anything the man across from her was saying, and she could tell he was starting to notice, but she couldn’t pull herself together.

Luke _Skywalker_.

It wasn’t just that his mentor had ruined his life - it was his own family. He’d mentioned that his mother had a twin brother - this must be Ben’s uncle.

The man who’d abandoned him and left him to Snoke.

“Well, this is going well so far,” Skywalker muttered sarcastically, raising his brows and leaning back in his seat.

“What?”

He rolled his eyes and replied, “I asked you a question. Then I asked it again. Still no answer.”

Rey shook her head and apologized, “I’m just - sorry, It’s been a rough day and I just got thrown off a little by something you said. What was your question?”

He waited a beat, just to make her squirm a little, and then repeated slowly, “What do you think differentiates an inspired work from an insipid one?”

She blinked, still struggling to manage her swirling thoughts and hold a conversation at the same time.

“You mean, when it comes to my writing?”

He narrowed his eyes and retorted, “Not necessarily. But it’s interesting that you assumed I was referring to your own work. Do you often produce work that you feel is insipid?”

She frowned at the passive-aggressive jab and answered, “I hope not, but I’m sure it’s happened before.”

“And what do you do in those situations? Do you scrap the project and start over, or try and improve what you’ve already written?”

“I suppose it depends on a variety of factors…”

“Such as?”

She sighed. She’d known the interview would be tough, but she was uncomfortable with the way they were sat side-by-side and not facing each other. She suspected it was intentional, and it just made her opinion on the man next to her sour even further.

“How far along I am, how strongly I feel about the project? I don’t know. Also, it would depend on the reason it wasn’t coming along the way I wanted it to - you know, outside factors or because of something to do with me, my writing process...”

“And in which of those circumstances would it be more acceptable for a project to fail?”

She shrugged and replied, “Acceptable to whom?”

“Glad you said ‘whom’,” he quipped, “Or the interview would have been over right there.”

She couldn’t tell if he was joking or if he was mocking her. He seemed bored and grouchy in general. His attitude, combined with the lingering effects of her fight with Ben and the newfound realization clattering around in her head, made it hard for her to remain invested in the interview.

In fact, she realized suddenly, it made it virtually impossible.

All at once, she knew what she had to do. She knew it wasn’t really any of this man’s business, and she knew that it could quite possibly tank any chance she had at getting the spot in the program, but Rey knew she had to lay everything out on the table. Both because it felt vaguely unethical, somehow, to keep it to herself - and also because her shock at learning this man’s identity was quickly being replaced with anger.

“Doctor Skywalker…”

“Luke. I hate formality.”

“Fine,” she said, a bit too snappishly, and his eyebrows shot up at the way her voice echoed through the mostly-vacant chapel, “Look, I feel like I should tell you who I am.”

He searched her face while she paused to take a breath, and then he glowered at her.

“You’re not about to tell me your mother or brother or second cousin once-removed was some kind of bigshot here back in the day, are you? Is that why Amylin was pushing your application so hard?”

“What? No, I…”

“I don’t subscribe to the whole nepotism thing, Miss Niima. I don’t care who you’re related to or where you’re from.”

“It’s just Rey,” she said coldly, his words stinging a place deep in her soul, “Since you hate formality so much. And no - I never had any family to speak of and I’m from nowhere, so I’ve certainly never benefited from nepotism of any kind.”

Usually people became uncomfortable when she mentioned her background, but he didn’t. If anything, it annoyed him further.

“Sob stories don’t work on me, either,” he said flatly, then added pointedly, “Rey from Nowhere.”

Though her blood was reaching boiling point, Rey kept her eyes steady on his, tried to regain some semblance of confidence back. But in her heart of hearts she knew it was over. The meeting, this absolute nightmare of a day, and any chance she had at Princeton.

“I think it’s strange that you find nepotism so distasteful, considering _your_ name’s not exactly low-profile,” she managed to say evenly.

His brows snapped together as he regarded her.

“What’s in a name?” he growled, “Know that one?”

“Oh, it’s surprising how much a name can tell you about a person,” she shot back, and against her better judgement, went on, “For example, your name tells me that you’re the same professor who used to mentor your nephew when he was studying here, who you then ruined over a petty disagreement.”

Luke Skywalker’s face drained of color, his mustache twitching as he asked again, “Who are you?”

She just stared, and he got more agitated as he demanded threateningly,

“Are you a member of the press? Because if this is all just an elaborate ruse to get me to dish dirt on my family, then…”

“I’m not a member of the press. For God’s sake,” she broke in, exasperated, “But I do know Ben. And from what he’s told me, that particular connection isn’t likely to do me any favors.”

Luke’s chin went up defiantly as he tossed the folder he was holding - she assumed it was her application, now most likely garbage - on the pew between them.

“Very astute. You sure know everything there is to know about us Skywalkers. The question is, how well do you know Ben, specifically?”

She inhaled slowly and admitted, “I’m - we’re together, actually.”

Suddenly, he looked furious. And alarmed, which wasn’t comforting.

“Miss Niima, I don’t have to tell you that this interview has been an unmitigated disaster. I’m sure you already see that. We obviously clash on a number of levels, but I’d still be remiss if I didn’t advise you against any kind of relationship with my nephew.”

She was stunned.

“Excuse me?”

“I’ll make myself even clearer - if I were you, I’d run. As far and as fast as you can.”

The words were like a slap to the face, and Rey could feel her rage boiling over. For Ben, and for herself.

“You have no right to tell me what to do when it comes to Ben.”

“No, but I do have an obligation. The things I know about him and what he’s capable of compel me to warn you, even if you choose not to listen.”

“Why _should_ I listen to you?” she spat, “You’ve done nothing but deliberately try to intimidate and antagonize me since from the moment we met!”

He had the good grace to wince at her accusation, flung at him like a dagger, but quickly recovered - and began flinging daggers right back.

“How long have you two been together? A few months?”

Now it was her turn to wince, because it hadn’t even technically been that long - but she was certainly not going to tell _him_ that. He must have read her discomfort all over her face, though, because he snorted and carried on.

“Look, Rey - even though it’s been years since I’ve seen or heard from him, I _do_ know him. I knew him as a boy, and I knew the man he became. He’s not capable of healthy relationships, that he certainly can’t sustain them. Not even with his own family.”

She was practically vibrating with suppressed fury as she retorted, “And whose fault is _that?_ You made a complete mess of his life! He told me about what happened when he was here, about how you destroyed his future! It _was_ you, wasn’t it?”

He just looked at her now, his eyes glazing over with a sort of bone-deep sorrow. It only incensed Rey more - he didn’t deserve to make this about _him._

“Wasn’t it?” she prodded again, relentless.

This time he answered quickly, quietly, “Yes. It was me.”

 _“How?”_ she asked, her teeth bared, “How could you do that to your own nephew?”

He looked at her for a moment more before he sighed and averted his eyes, focusing on something in his mind’s eye. Something that Rey couldn’t see. He hesitated before he began,

“Ben was an emotional child. He used to get into a lot of trouble, had a hard time connecting with people - he just felt too much. When he came to me, after college, his passion had already morphed into something dangerous. He was volatile, tempestuous, aggressive...untethered. I thought I could calm him, help him learn to focus and redirect his energy, but...it was nothing but vanity on my part. Nothing any of us could have done would have changed him.”

“You shouldn’t have wanted to change him in the first place,” she argued vehemently, “You should have accepted him for who he was. _Loved_ him for who he was...”

“We did love him,” Luke snapped, “Of course we loved him.”

“Well he didn’t feel like you did. He thought you were ashamed of him,” she said, then stopped herself.

She was revealing too much. It wasn’t her place to have _this_ conversation with Ben’s uncle.

Nevertheless, she was in the thick of it now, and Skywalker stood and strode to the windows, gazing up at the stained glass as he spoke.

“He was too busy sending himself into oblivion to notice how hard we tried. We didn’t stand a chance, not with Snoke in his ear…but maybe you don’t know about that part of his life, and it’s certainly not my story to tell.”

Something he’d said made Rey pause, and her brow furrowed as she latched onto it.

“What do you mean, sending himself into oblivion?”

Luke stiffened, then turned to scowl at her.

“I thought you said he told you what happened when he was here.”

She could do little more than gape for a moment, and it was enough to send the clear message that whatever Ben had told her wasn’t the entire truth. It was a message they both received at the same time, and neither one of them looked very pleased with what needed to come next.

Luke sighed again and shoved his hands in the pockets of his corduroy trousers.

“He used to share an office with me. One day, I came to work to find him slumped in his chair - he’d been there all night, getting high.”

Rey felt her heart drop to her stomach, and she suddenly felt sick.

“He - no, he doesn’t…”

“Maybe he doesn’t now,” Luke interrupted, gently, “But he did then - he’d use anything he could get his hands on, but mostly hallucinogens. Snoke encouraged it - said it was how Anakin Skywalker had tapped into his creative potential, and that Ben would be a fool if he didn’t do the same in order to achieve true greatness. Or some shit like that.”

Rey stared at him, her eyes stinging. Ben hadn’t told her this - he’d said their falling out had been about ‘ideological differences’.

Suddenly, she felt like a fool.

And Luke wasn’t even finished.

“It wasn’t the first time I’d found him passed out after a bender, but it was by far the worst. He was covered in puke, he’d pissed himself - he was so unresponsive that for a minute, I thought he was dead. I remember…”

Here, Luke stopped. Swallowed. In a voice that was almost inaudible, he admitted,

“I remember feeling grief, but underneath there was... _relief._ I thought it was finally over. Our family could finally find some peace…”

“That’s fucked up,” Rey cut him off, so revolted she couldn’t find it in herself to control her language in church, “That’s...that’s just so…”

“I know,” he conceded, his voice betraying his regret, “I’ve never forgiven myself for thinking it. It didn’t last - it passed like a fleeting shadow, and I was left with nothing but shame. Still...I knew what I had to do.”

“You didn’t have to ruin his life,” she protested weakly, her conviction fading, “You could have helped him, you could have…”

“I tried, Rey. We all did. We tried everything else and nothing worked. Everything we did only made him worse, made him angrier. I had to make him understand that there were consequences for his actions, or he was gonna end up killing himself. So, I reported him. They weren’t going to fire him - they were talking about sending him to rehab. I was the one who encouraged them to cut him off completely.”

She stood now, too, her hands in fists at her sides.

“It’s your fault he went running to Snoke and spent ten years floundering, wasting his life away. You know that, don’t you?”

“He was dangerous, and I couldn’t have him in a leadership position here. I just couldn’t.”

Her heart was plummeting. _How could this story get any worse,_ she wondered frantically.

“Dangerous, how?”

Luke’s gaze pierced her as he put the final nail in Ben’s coffin.

“After the university sent him packing, he came to my house. I think he meant to confront me, and I don’t know what would have happened if I’d been home. I wasn’t, so he let himself in and set fire to my study instead.”

She stared at him and whispered, “He _what?”_

“He burned it all,” Luke said, his face drawn, “All my writing, all my research - everything I’d ever done, gone in a flash. I came home to a swarm of firefighters and police. The house survived - they said he called it in himself once he was a safe distance away. He didn’t want to burn my home. Just my soul.”

Rey covered her face with her hands, mumbling, “Oh, my God…”

“Rey, I’m telling you this because you need to understand the man you’re with. Unless he’s gotten help, which I doubt, he’s not stable.”

“He’s not that man anymore,” she argued, and it was only when she went to speak that she realized she was choking up, “You haven’t seen him in years. He stopped working for Snoke, he…”

“To pursue a relationship with you?”

She didn’t answer, too taken aback by the question. Instead, she just rambled on,

“He’s gentle and generous, and he’d never - he’d never do anything to…”

Even as she defended him, she found herself stumbling as the events of the last twelve hours invaded her mind. The way he’d seemingly fallen apart, the way his depression had evolved into searing, unjustified anger...

“He never got the help he needed,” Luke broke into her train of thought, “He got arrested and ran right to Snoke, who got his charges reduced. Then he got sucked into Snoke’s little side-business and lost himself there. Became Kylo Ren in order to detach - to escape from it all, hiding behind a stage name.”

She couldn’t do anything more than shake her head, trying desperately to make sense of the world that had just been turned upside down around her. He seemed to take pity on her then and spoke softly,

“Unless and until he deals with his issues, he’ll just continue to jump from one crutch to another, falling to pieces when he thinks things are spiraling out of his control. The writing, the drugs, Snoke - and now you.”

She thought back to what Finn had told her the first time she’d laid eyes on Ben - that he was unpredictable, aggressive, temperamental. She thought about how their relationship had started, with him coming into Maz’s - how he’d been taciturn and rude, and she’d later chalked it up to a lack of social skills. She thought about the night they’d been sitting on that bench eating tacos. The night Finn had ‘caught’ them. How incensed he’d been...he’d stormed off, afraid he’d do something violent.

She thought about how he’d initially reacted when she’d offered to read his play. He’d been so intense, so... _angry._

After a moment, Luke sighed and said,

“Don’t be his new crutch, Rey. You’re young, talented and you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. It probably wasn’t my place to tell you any of this, and it’s up to you whether you take it to heart or not, but I wouldn’t have felt right if I’d let him continue to lie to you about his past.”

“He’s never lied to me,” she said, the words sounding hollow even to her.

“Lies of omission are still lies.”

She thought about how desperate he’d been to hang onto her. How he’d been willing to sit on the sidelines as her friend, even though he was already in love with her, as long as it meant he could keep her in his life. At the time, she’d found it heartwarming and indicative of how lonely he was - now, she couldn’t help feeling that it was unhealthy.

Loneliness - it was the thing she’d recognized in him, the thing that had resonated with her. It had been what made her deliver that damned gumbo in the first place.

Luke’s words from moments ago crashed through her brain once more.

_He’s not capable of healthy relationships...he certainly can’t sustain them..._

The doubts were pinging off of each other now in her head, all the warning signs blaring in a way they hadn’t before. Still, all those doubts couldn’t erase how she felt about him, and she wouldn’t give up on him so easily.

“Look, I can help him. If I go to him and tell him...”

“This is not going to go the way you think,” he said, holding her gaze with an earnestness that disarmed her completely, “Trust me.”

Rey knew she couldn’t stay there a moment longer, with the ghosts of Ben’s past swirling around her and the blue eyes of Luke-bloody-Skywalker staring into her as though he could see her thoughts. With as much dignity as she could muster, she held out her hand and said,

“I wish I could say it’s been a pleasure, Doctor Skywalker, but I won’t patronize you.”

To his credit, he looked remorseful as he sighed and said, “Listen...I’ll explain things to Amylin. She’ll grant you another interview with someone else.”

“Thanks,” she replied, “But I think I’d rather just...not.”

He nodded his understanding.

“Well, in that case, I wish you luck.”

She turned to leave, tears threatening to fill her eyes, and at the last minute she froze. On impulse and without stopping to consider whether or not it was a good idea or a horrible one, she reached into her bag and pulled out the copy she’d made of Ben’s play. Turning back, she held it out to him, watching as he frowned at it warily.

“What’s that?”

“Take it,” she begged quietly, somewhat surprised when he complied. He stared at it, then up at her again.

“Even if everything you said is true, and I don’t really know him like I thought I did,” she rasped, willing her voice to be steady even though she was shaken to her core, “I still think that you don’t know him anymore, either. Read this, and maybe you’ll finally be able to think of him as more than just a monster.”

Then she walked away and out into the overcast afternoon, not giving him any time at all to reject the suggestion.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks so much to everyone for reading. It's gotta get worse before it gets better, right? Ben's all over the place with his emotional whiplash, because as soft as he's been, he's had serious stuff simmering under the surface the whole time. And Rey's just hanging on for dear life.
> 
> The next chapter shouldn't take near as long. Did I say that last time? I hope not...;)

**Author's Note:**

> I have no clue what possessed me. I started writing a plot bunny to get over writer’s block on my other fic and couldn’t stop. We shall see where it goes...!
> 
> Also, I did want to make the industry seem realistic so I did as much research as my time permitted. Hopefully it comes across. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Come find me on Tumblr - emmyjeanb.


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